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RAVEN I A; 



OR, 


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CAST Redeemed. 


9//V6 


By ANNIE NEELES, ■ 

Author of "Life of a Book Agent f " Scraps f Etc., Etc. 


V 


TRUTH STRANGER THAN FICTIONN 


Topeka, Kansas: 

COMMONWEALTH PRINTING COMPANY’S PRESS. 
1872. 


Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1868, by 
MRS. ANNIE NEELES, 

In the Clerk’s office for the Eastern District of Pennsylvania. 


PREFACE. 


The favor and kindness with which a former work by the authoress 
has been received by a generous public has induced her to once more 
solicit their indulgence. But in the preparation of this work she has 
been actuated by motives entirely different from those which prompted 
the publication of The Life of a Book Agent.” Now she has no per^ 
sonal object to accomplish, but is moved to the publication of this work 
solely as a means and in the hope of accomplishing some good to her 
fellow-creatures ; and in introducing it she desires to present a few plain, 
practical questions to each one of her readers. 

Do you know any poor outcast in your own city, village or neighbor- 
hood, who, either deservedly or otherwise, is loathed, detested and de- 
spised by almost the entire community ; against whom every door is 
closed, and who looks in vain for any aid or countenance in the effort to 
escape from the worse than Egyptian bondage which enthralls them ? 
And do you ever stop to consider that these poor, wretched, despised 
beings have immortal souls to be saved at last, as well as yourself? What 
is your conduct toward these poor unfortunates? Does your benevo- 
lence embrace even them also? 

It was one of the reproaches cast on our Savior during His ministra- 
tions on earth, by the Pharisees, that He stooped too low in this respect, 
and that He seemed to take the part of wicked and undeserving people, 
^‘Behold,” said they^ ‘‘a friend of publicans and sinners; ” and again. 
This woman is a sinner.” But he silenced and confounded them by 
saying, ‘‘I came not to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance.” 
And herein He set an example to His followers which we fear, alas ! is 
but seldom emulated. 

Are you, my reader, like Him, a friend to this most discreditable 
class of sinners ? Is their reputed unworthiness no argument with you 
for declining an opportunity of doing .them good, or making an earnest, 
Christian effort to save their immortal souls ? Do you each do what in 
you lieth to effect their redemption, and not despair of them despite the 
sneers of the world and the scoffs of unchristian people ? Or, on the 
contrary, does the dread of suffering in your own reputation continually 
check and restrain you in the just exercise of your beneficence ? 


4 


PREFACE. 


Our Savior was remarkable for His condescension, humility and in- 
difference to worldly praise, and His love has respect chiefly to the souls 
of mankind. 

Are you chiefly concerned also about the souls of your fellow-men, 
and especially of the class of which we have been speaking? Do you 
seek by all means in your power to promote men’s eternal interests? Do 
you labor to enlighten, to elevate, to instruct, to invite, to warn, and to 
reclaim the outcast as did our Redeemer, and do you weep over the case 
of impenitent sinners as He wept over Jerusalem? Or, on the contrary, 
are you of those who make light of men’s spiritual interests — who seem 
almost to forget that their fellow- creatures have immortal souls, and who 
at the utmost can only be prevailed on to show a little humanity to their 
bodies while their souls are left to perish? 

These are questions which each must answer for himself, only re- 
membering that there are none so sunken in infamy, and want, and woe, 
but His loving hand can reach them, and that all were once pure and in- 
nocent babes, as were you when you lay at your mother’s breast. 

In the hope that this little volume may lead some to more earnest 
reflection upon the path of duty and strengthen them to walk therein ; 
may be the means of leading some stray lamb back to the fold, and may 
be received and judged by a generous public with the same kindness and 
favor awarded the other work, it is respectfully submitted by 

THE AUTHOR. 


Topeka, Kansas, May, 1872. 


IDEIDIC^TIOIN". 


To that noble band of heroic men and women, who, despising the reproach of the 
world, and having an eye single to the glory of God, labor with might and main, never 
wearying and never looking backward, to effect the elevation and redemption of fallen 
humanity, this work is respectfully dedicated. 

May He who has said “ The harvest is great, but the laborers are few,” add daily to 
your numbers ; may He crown your every effort with success ; and may you at the last 
be gathered to eternal rest in His mansion, “Bringing your sheaves with you,” is the 
earnest, heartfelt prayer of 


Topeka, Kansas, May, 1872. 


THE AUTHOR. 











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A 


TABLE OF CONTENTS, 


CHAPTER I. 

PAGE 

Ravenia’s birth and parentage — Death of her father — Death of her mother — She goes 
to Dr. Armstrong’s — Altercation between the Doctor and his wife 9 

CHAPTER II. 

Cruelty of Mrs. Armstrong to the orphan — Almost frozen to death — Mrs. Day deliv- 
ers her — She receives a severe beating from Mrs. Armstrong — Kittie carries her 
to the house of Dr. Day — She is adopted by him — The trial — Kitty goes to live at 
Dr. Day’s 22 

CHAPTER III. 

Happiness of Ravenia at Dr. Day’s — Their judicious management of her — They decide 
to send her to boarding school— She goes — Harry Day .' 32 

CHAPTER IV. 

Harry and his aunt visit Ravenia — Harry in love — The game of draughts — William 
Myers 41 

CHAPTER V. 

The visit continued — Sabbath School — The villainy of Myers — Ravenia visits her 
home — The greeting — Harry’s proposal 56 

CHAPTER VI. 

The Scene at the tea-table — Interview between Harry and Kitty in the garden — 
Kitty is to accompany Ravenia on her return to school — Ravenia’s delight 70 

CHAPTER VII. 

Ravenia’s return to school — Kitty’s illness — The new chambermaid— Myer’s proposal. 
Acceptance — Ravenia’s dream 80 

CHAPTER VIII. 

The forged letters — Arrangements for the marriage of Ravenia and Myers — Her 
innocent, unsuspecting nature— His falsehoods 92 

CHAPTER IX. 

The elopement — The journey to Blairsville — Pretended relatives — Fearful disclosure 
of Myers’s plot - 100 

CHAPTER X. 

Misery and wretchedness — Alone--Myers*B return — The journey to Pittsburgh— The 
quarrel— Myers goes away— She writes to her father— Myers’s return— The final 
departure 107 


8 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER XI. 

Retrospective— Effect of Ravenia’s elopement— Mrs. Day and Harry arrive at Hunt- 
ingdon— Mystery— Vain efforts to find her— More forgeries— Death of Dr. Day- 
Death of Harry— Sale of the Homestead— Ravenia driven into the street, became 
an outcast 120 

CHAPTER XII. 

Ravenia in Cincinnati— Her desire to escape from her present mode of life— Meets 

Lieutenant , — He befriends her — She is turned into the street by Mrs. 

, — Her despair— She finds shelter and kindness 132 

CHAPTER XIII. 

Mrs. Weston and her family — Their kindness to our heroine — Guss He 

falls in love with Ravenia— The proposal— The revelation— Engaged 150 

CHAPTER XIV. 

Francis Wills — Failure of Ravenia’s lover — He goes to Idaho — His faithlessness and 
desertion 158 

CAPTER XV. 

Wills proposes to Ravenia — Is accepted — Their marriage — Remove to Indianapolis — 

His death 167 

CHAPTER XVI. 

The funeral — Ravenia learns the photographer’s art — Eva Earl — Her history — Her 
little boy 177 

CHAPTER XVII. 

Commencement of the intimacy between Ravenia and Eva — The walk in the garden — 

She sends a holiday gift to her former lover 191 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

Ravenia’s efforts to do good — Alva Vance, Marcia Howard — Redeemed — The journey 
to Cleveland 197 

CHAPTER XIX. 

Letters — Marcia’s wedding — The visit to Cincinnati — Return home — Adventure of 
Eva Earl in New York — The lunatic asylum — Anna Bird 208 

CHAPER XX. 

Eva’s illness — Ravenia’s care of her — Taken sick herself — Her recovery 222 

CHAPTER. XXI. 

The “ Woman question” — Its discussion 231 

CHAPTER XXII. 

The strange photograph— Sanford Bentley— Clara’s wedding— The double wedding— 
Surprises — Conclusion 242 


RAVENIA; 

OR, 

THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


CHAPTER 1. 

Ravenia Martin, the heroine of our tale, was born of 
poor but respectable parents, in the village of Kittaning, 
in the State of Pennsylvania. Her father was an honest, 
industrious mechanic, and a man of strictly temperate 
and moral habits ; and, so long as he retained his health, 
was able to support his family in a reasonably comforta- 
ble manner from the labor of his hands. But something 
over a year before the birth of Ravenia he had met with 
a serious accident from the giving way of a scaffold upon 
which he was working, and from which he sustained such 
serious injuries that for a long time his life was despaired 
of. A naturally strong constitution, however, aided by 
his temperate and frugal habits, at length triumphed and 
his life was saved, and he even restored to some degree 
of health. But alas ! he was only the shadow of his for- 
mer self, and when he once more went forth to resume 
his daily toil, he found that the severe shock to which 
2 


10 


kavenia; or, 


his system had •been subjected, and the long period of 
illness consequent thereupon, had sadly shattered his 
constitution and left him but the wreck of the active, 
stalwart man he once was, and that he could no longer 
pursue his former avocation with his accustomed zeal 
and energy. His spine had sustained severe injury, and 
his trembling limbs refused to support for any considera- 
ble length of time the weight of his manly frame. 

But no other avenue of life was open to him. Fitted 
by habit and education only for the rough toil amid 
which the years of his manhood had been spent, without 
means to engage in any lighter or more lucrative employ- 
ment, he could only struggle on against the frowns of ad- 
versity, only hoping that time might bring healing and 
relief. Yain hope. For more than two years he toiled on, 
laboring whenever his health would admit, with what- 
ever of energy he was able to command, but to little 
purpose. Being thus in a great measure deprived of the 
means of gaining a livelihood, he .gradually fell behind 
in his pecuniary affairs, and when, about a year after the 
birth of our heroine, he died — on account, in part no 
doubt, of the injuries received in the fall above men- 
tioned — he was found to be so much involved as to ren- 
der necessary the sale' of almost the whole of his little 
property, including the cottage which had been the home 
of himself and his loved one, and where Bavenia was 
born, thus leaving his widow and orphan helpless, friend- 
less and even without shelter in a cold and uncharitable 
world. 

Mrs. Martin was a woman of remarkable beauty and 
of refined and naturally intelligent character, though 
possessed of but a limited education; while her deep, 
earnest conviction of right and wrong amounted almost 
to religion with her. She had married William Martin 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


11 


solely from love of his noble manhood and admiration of 
his exalted moral character, and their wedded life had 
been hut one continual scene of peace and calm content. 
Humble though their lot had been, and oftentimes, after 
her husband had been disabled by accident, approaching 
the verge of destitution, no murmur or word of com- 
plaint had ever passed her lips to add to the burdens 
which he already bore. Cheerfully she accepted her lot 
and walked by his side, the constant, devoted friend and 
supporter of him to whom she had unreservedly given, 
with her hand, the full measure of her true woman’s 
love. 

But when after his death, she realized fully her desti- 
tution — realized that she was alone, friendless, without 
means or influence, debarred by her limited education 
from entering any of those flelds to which admission can 
be gained only through the portals of the school house, 
but where cultivated intellect is sure to And its reward — 
realized that her infant daughter, even more helpless 
than herself, was entirely dependent upon her — what won- 
der that for a moment she shrank from encountering the 
obstacles which loomed up in such gigantic proportions be- 
fore her, that the demon of despair almost took possession 
of her soul, and that for a time she almost gave up all hope 
and wished that she might lie down in the silent slumber 
of the grave beside him she had so loved ? But anon came 
a better feeling and a calmer state of mind. Her hahe — 
the fruit and pledge of their afiection — lived and must 
be cared for, and for her sake the mother roused herselt 
and set about devising means to obtain a livelihood. 
She was advised by friends to part with her child, and 
one lady in particular, who had lost a child about 
Kavenia’s age, was very anxious to adopt her as her own. 
But Mrs. Martin would not entertain the idea for a 
moment. Ho ; she was her own flesh and blood, and was 


12 


ravenia; or, 


all she had to love — the only tie, save bitter memory, 
which bound her to the happy past, and she could never 
consent to be separated from her in life. But what could 
she do for her own and her infant’s support ? 

And at once her thoughts turned to the needle — that 
little instrument which furnishes a precarious support for 
so many thousands of American women as they stitch, 
stitch, stitch their very lives away to obtain the miserable 
pittance accorded their late and early toil by purse-proud 
capitalists, every dollar of whose wealth is stained with 
drops of life — blood from the very hearts of those who 
are forced by sheer necessity to accept their meagre 
bounty or starve. She well understood all the suffering 
and privations which would attend her life; she was fully 
aware that weariness and want were the almost inevitable 
attendants of the life of a seamstress; she foresaw the 
sneers and suspicions, the covert insults which she must 
encounter, but the world was dark and cheerless before 
her, and she had no other alternative. And with a heavy 
heart she sallied forth from the little rooms, which the 
kindness of a neighbor had enabled her to procure, in 
search of employment in the field which not choice but 
stern necessity had impelled her to enter. 

It is not the purpose of this story to follow Mrs. Mar- 
tin through the ups and downs of her years of toil and 
insufficient compensation — to recount in detail the heart- 
burnings and bitter mortifications, the coldness, jeers and 
taunts which not unfrequently greeted her, from those 
more favored by fortune than herself — it is enough for 
the purposes of this story to say that for more than four 
long years of the most unremitting toil, oft protracted to 
the small hours of the morning, barely sufficed to pro- 
vide herself and her child with the very commonest neces- 
saries of life. 

But she was of delicate frame and constitution, and 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


18 


the constant toil and anxiety told fearfully upon her sys- 
tem, and all too soon the wasted form, the pallid cheek 
and dry, hacking cough gave notice unmistakably that 
she, too, would soon be called home and Ravenia left an 
orphan indeed. She, poor child ! was too young to un- 
derstand or heed these tokens of approaching disso- 
lution, but to the mother herself they were fearfully 
apparent, and none but a mother’s heart can comprehend 
the feelings which thrilled her soul as she contemplated 
the prospect of her early decease. 'Not that she feared 
to go into the presence of her Maker — ^her soul was too 
pure and noble for that — but the thought of what might 
be the fate of her child when she should be deprived of 
the guardian care of her mother, was ever present, 
poisoning all her joy and embittering every moment of 
her life. And often at the midnight hours, when her 
little one was wrapped in the sweet slumber of innocent 
childhood, she mused upon this subject until her brain 
almost went wild, and the scalding tears forced her to 
lay aside the work upon which, perhaps, the next day’s 
supply of food and fuel depended. Oh ! how fervently 
upon such occasions she prayed that the Father of all 
would, in His infinite goodness, spare her life until her 
daughter should no longer require the mother’s foster- 
ing care. But it was not to be. 

A short distance from the house, a part of which Mrs. 
Martin occupied, lived a kind-hearted and wealthy phy- 
sician by the name of Armstrong. In the early gray of 
a spring morning, barely five years from the decease of 
■William Martin, the door bell of Dr. Armstrong’s resi- 
dence was rung with great violence. The doctor had 
just finished his toilet (for he was an early riser), and at 
once started for the door, but before he reached it the 
summons was repeated with an energy which left no 
doubt of the importance and urgent character of the call 


14 


ravenia; or, 


awaiting him. Upon opening the door he found upon 
the steps the kind-hearted Irish woman from whom Mrs. 
Martin rented her rooms. 

‘‘ Sure, docther,” she said, without stopping even for 
the usual morning salutation, “ and will ye jist go over 
to the place of me ? The swate lady, heaven bless her, 
I do belave is dyin’.” 

“What lady do you mean ? said the doctor, hesitat- 
ingly, for he very much disliked the idea of going out 
before breakfast unless the case was one of great emer- 
gency. 

“ What lady ? Why, Mrs. Martin, for shure,’’ said the 
warm-hearted Irish woman. “Bless her swate soul, she 
is shure to die, and then what ^11 become of her little 
darlint ? ’’ 

“ How long has she been sick, and what is the matter 
with her ? ” 

“ Matther is it ? Och, doctor, for shure I do belave 
its jist overwork and starvin to death she is. Poor 
woman ! shure she hasnT been able to work for the last 
year, but still she kept stitch, stitch, stitch, stitchin’ away, 
until yesther morn, not seein’ her sittin’ at her little 
winder, I jist made bould to go right into her room, and 
there I found her in bed kind o’ stupid like, while her 
little one was cryin’ to be dressed, for it was long past 
her gittin’ up time. ‘ Good mornin’, Mrs. Martin,’ says 
I ; ‘ good mornin’,’ says she, kind o’ feeble like. ‘ How 
do you feel this mornin’, Mrs. Martin ? ’ says I; ‘Kind o’ 
tired,’ says she, ‘ but I’ll be betther afther a little.’ And 
then I jist looked at her and I saw she was rale sick, and 
I jist wint and fetched her some tay and a bit of bread 
and butter, but no more could she ate. So I jist stayed 
wid her all day and all night, and I raly thought she’d 
die afore mornin’. Sich faintin’ spells as she had,” said 
the good woman, shaking her head slowly from side to 


THE OUTCAST KEDEEMED. 


15 


side at the recollection : “ but will yees come, docther 
dear?^’ 

“ Why, bless me, yes,’’ said the old doctor, his sympa- 
thies fully roused by the somewhat prolix, yet graphic 
account of the honest-hearted Irish woman ; “ what ! 
starving to death, and in this Christian land ! It cannot 
be,” and without even stopping to ask the old woman into 
the house, so much was he shocked and startled by her 
tale, he hastened to make the necessary preparations for 
his visit, while the kind nurse returned with all speed to 
the helpless woman whose pitiful condition had so 
strongly appealed to her warm Irish sympathies. 

And not long did the worthy doctor delay in follow- 
ing her, but hastily making a few necessary preparations, 
and without once thinking of his breakfast, he stood, in a 
few moments, by the bedside of the dying woman. For 
dying she really was, and the first glance which the man 
of science cast upon the pallid face, told him that he had 
been summoned too late, and that here all his science 
and all his skill were in vain — that his sympathy and 
proverbial kindness would now avail naught save, it 
might be, to smooth her passage over the darkened 
river. The ghastly, ashen hue of death had already over- 
spread her countenance, and her breathing was slow and 
labored though she was still in the full possession of her 
senses, and could talk, but in a low tone and with some 
difficulty. 

‘‘ Doctor,” said she, feebly, recognizing him as soon 
as he took his seat at her bedside, “ tell me truly, am I 
not dying? ” 

‘‘ To trifie with you at such a time as this were worse 
than useless,” replied the kind-hearted old man, ‘‘you 
have but a few hours at most — perhaps only a few 
minutes — to live.” 

“ I felt sure of it,” she replied, calmly, “ I was sure 


16 


ravenia; or, 


these feelings could portend nothing but immediate 
death ; and for myself I do not fear to go. Life is but a 
sorrowful journey, and this world a sad place since my 
husband has gone and left me. But oh ! doctor,’’ and 
here her mother’s love filled her heart and lent unwonted 
energy to her feeble tones, ‘‘what will become of my 
poor Eavenia when I am gone ? who will supply her 
mother’s place, and care for her as I would have done ? ” 

“Have no fears upon her account, Mrs. Martin,” 
replied the kind physician, his eyes melting as he spoke, 
“I will see that your little one is provided for.” 

“Oh! doctor,” said the poor woman, half raising her- 
self upon her elbow in the earnestness of her supplica- 
tion, “you have no children — promise me that Eavenia 
shall become your child ; that you will take her to your 
own home and care for and educate her as you would 
if she were your own daughter. Promise me this, and I 
can die contented and happy. But to have her cast upon 
the cold charity of the world, with no place to call her 
home, and no one to care what becomes of her — I cannot 
bear to think of it. Will you not promise me ? ” she 
asked with almost frantic eagerness, and fixing upon his 
face a look of imploring entreaty which he was powerless 
to resist. 

“Yes, my good woman,” replied the doctor in a tone 
which told how deeply he was moved by this passionate 
appeal, “ I promise, and may heaven deal with me as I 
redeem that promise.” 

“ Oh ! doctor, what a weight you have taken from 
my mind, and now I can die contented. God bless you 
for that promise,” said she, feebly, the sudden energy 
which had animated her passing away ; and sinking back 
upon her pillow, in a few moments her bruised and worn 
spirit had taken its flight to join his whom she had so 
loved, and from whom she had been so long separated. 


THE OUTCAST KEDEEMED. 


17 


Dr. Armstrong was too much accustomed to scenes of 
death to be moved to any great extent by them ; not so, 
however, the kind-hearted Irish landlady. In her simple, 
quiet life, she had witnessed but few exhibitions of the 
power of the dark angel, and she stood in silent awe till 
Mrs. Martin had ceased to breathe, when she burst into 
violent wailing and lamentation over the deceased, re- 
counting in true Irish style her worth and her virtues. 
The doctor, however, quieted her by sending her in 
search of Eavenia (for she had not been present during 
the last sad scenes of the tragedy,) and then giving the 
necessary directions for the funeral, took the little girl 
and started with her for his home, not, however, entirely 
easy in his mind as to the reception he would meet with 
upon his arrival there. 

Although the kindness of Dr. Armstrong’s heart was 
proverbial, he was yoked with a most uncongenial mate 
in the person of his wife. She was one of those rare 
specimens of feminine humanity in whose character 
kindness seems to be entirely wanting — a haughty, over- 
bearing woman of the world in her intercourse with 
society, and a termagant at home. She was never able 
to appreciate the motive which induced one to perform 
an act of disinterested charity and kindness, and seldom 
or never acted herself from any but the most sordid and 
selfish inducements. Her emotionless features and eyes, 
cold, gray and hard as iron, were never lighted up in 
response to any ennobling or generous sentiment, and 
her heart never moved with any of the warmer or kind- 
lier impulses of our nature. ‘‘Many a time and oft” 
had she rated the good doctor soundly for his constantly 
recurring deeds of charity and kindness, and on such 
occasions her sarcastic disposition led her to make 
remarks which she afterwards deeply regretted. It was 
the doctor’s usual custom at such times to make no reply. 


18 


ravenia; or, 


but quietly putting on his hat he would leave the house 
and remain away until he judged a sufficient time had 
elapsed for her passion to subside. , 

]!:Tow, however, he felt that this course would not 
answer. He had promised the dying woman that Eave- 
nia should become a member of his family, and he felt 
that in order to fulfill that promise it would be necessary 
to face the storm of her wrath, however severe it might 
be, and to assert his authority in the premises, otherwise 
he felt sure Eavenia would be driven incontinently from 
the house. Ho wonder then that he dreaded meeting his 
virago of a wife, for he had long since learned to fear her 
sarcastic and venomous tongue. 

And in this instance his apprehensions were not at 
fault. Mrs. Armstrong saw him before he reached the 
house, leading the little girl by the hand, and carrying 
under his arm the little bundle of clothing which be- 
longed to her, and which the kind-hearted Irish landlady 
had put up for her, and the sight aroused all the terma- 
gant in her breast. She met him at the door. 

“ What beggar’s brat have you got there ? Another 
of your subjects of charity which you have picked up in 
the street, I suppose. Well, you need not bring her in 
here. Let her stay where she is till Kitty can get her a 
piece of bread, and then let her be oflT with herself, for I 
don’t want her about here.” 

“ This little girl’s name is Eavenia Martin, and she is 
going to stay here,” replied the doctor calmly but firmly, 
for he knew the best way was to settle the matter at 
once. 

‘‘ Who is Eavenia Martin, pray, and why is she going 
to itay here? ” demanded the lady in a shrill voice, indica- 
tive of her anger at the audacity which had dared to pro- 
pose such a thing. 

“ She is the daughter of William Martin, a poor but 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


19 ' 


very worthy mechanic, who died some few years since 
leaving his widow and this child in indigent circum- 
stances. Since then Mrs. Martin has supported herself 
entirely with her needle, and this morning I stood by her 
dying bed and in her last moments promised her that 
Ravenia should have a home with me. And that prom- 
ise will he kept,’^ said the doctor, passing his irate lady 
and entering the house, still holding his little charge by 
the hand. 

For a moment she could find no words in which to 
express her feelings. It had never entered her mind 
that the doctor contemplated taking the little stranger to- 
rear — the utmost she conceived was that some temporary 
charitable relief was to be afforded her, and that was 
amply sufficient to arouse her utmost indignation — but 
when she learned the whole truth she was so over- 
whelmed with astonishment at his presumption that for 
a short time she was utterly incapable of expressing her 
feelings. She followed him into the house. 

Well,’’ said she at last, spitefully jerking out her 
words one after the other, ‘‘ this is a delightful piece of 
business. I suppose it is not enough for you to take care 
of your wife and your two children, but you must turn 
your house into an asylum for all the little orphan beg- 
gars in the country.” 

‘‘Madam,” said the Doctor, decidedly, “ it is useless 
to remonstrate. I promised Mrs. Martin that her child 
should be taken care of, and she. shall be.” 

“ Then let her go to the asylum for the poor.” 

“Hever while I live. It is useless to discuss this 
matter further. She is here and here she will stay,”" 
replied he, with the air of a man who is fully decided and 
intends to shut off farther controversy. 

Hot so the lady, however. She had been so long 
accustomed to have her own way, and to rule her bus- 


20 


ravenia; or, 


band with a rod of iron, that it seemed almost impossible 
for her to yield. But this time the doctor was immova- 
ble. His rebellion was complete and successful, and 
after much altercation Eavenia was formally installed as a 
member- of Dr. Armstrong’s household, but more in the 
capacity of a menial servant than an adopted daughter, 
as will appear in the course of this “ over true tale.” 

Eavenia was at this time barely six years old, but the 
impression made upon her by this angry discussion, the 
whole of which took place in her presence and hearing, 
was never effaced from her recollection. From this time 
forth she, of course, looked upon Mrs. Armstrong as her 
bitterest enemy, and the doctor as her only friend and 
protector, and subsequent events proved that the childish 
opinion she had then formed was correct, at least that 
portion of it relating to Mrs. Armstrong. But let us not 
anticipate. 

As has already been stated, Eavenia was at this time 
six years of age. She was very small of her age, but a 
more engaging or interesting child is rarely met with. 
She had inherited all the beauty of her mother, while 
the contour of her head indicated that she possessed in 
an eminent degree the practical good sense and honest, 
straightforwardness of purpose of her father. Her hair 
was dark and hung in ringlets to her shoulders, and with 
her dark hazel eyes, now lighted with mirth, anon melt- 
ing with the affectionate, trusting, devoted love of inno- 
cent childhood, and again flashing with diminutive anger 
at some real or fancied trespass upon her rights or feel- 
ings, set off to the best advantage her glowing, fresh and 
blooming complexion. And added to these merely phy- 
eical charms, the child possessed a look of intelligence 
and comprehension beyond her years and altogether, 
made up a picture of loveliness which always attracted a 
second glance from any one who saw her. Young as 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


21 


she was, her mother, realizing in her own person the 
evils of a defective education, had commenced a course 
of instruction in which Ravenia took a deep interest and 
displayed a precocity and capability of acquiring knowl- 
edge which gave promise of the brightest future for her. 
But alas ! how vain are all merely human calculations. 
By the events in store for her, and which will be un- 
folded in the course of our story, the brightness of her 
horizon was to be obscured by clouds so dense and dark 
that we contemplate them with shuddering horror, and 
only wonder that by the force of her own inherent purity 
and strength of character she was enabled to soar above 
them at the last, into an atmosphere of purity and noble- 
ness which many whose lots have been cast in more 
propitious circumstances will vainly seek to emulate. 

Mrs. Martin was buried, and, with the closing of the 
earth above her coffin, every thing — save only the golden 
links of memory’s chain — which bound Ravenia to her 
past life. Father and mother were both gone — other 
friends she had none — ^henceforth she was to know but 
the love of her adopted father and mother — the latter 
being such love as a sordid and brutal task-master metes 
out to those who are so unfortunate as to be the victims 
of his tyranny. But we will reserve for another chapter 
the events of the next two years of her life. 


^2 


ravenia; or, 


CHAPTER II. 

Two years have passed away since the advent of 
Ravenia to the family of Dr. Armstrong. And during 
all that time Mrs. Armstrong has omitted no opportunity 
of manifesting the hatred and ill-will toward the child 
which she had conceived on the morning when she was 
first led home by Dr. Armstrong. Compelled to perform 
the most menial tasks, almost without intermission, from 
morning till night ; clad in insufficient garments of the 
•coarsest textures; beaten oft-times with most merciless 
'Cruelty, for the most trivial offences of omission or com- 
mission ; often punished for slight transgression by being 
starved during the entire day — her lot was in truth a 
most miserable one, and but for the love of her adopted 
father, and of the Irish cook, Kitty, upon whose suscept- 
ible heart her rare beauty and sweet, childish ways had 
made an indelible impression, her life would have been 
devoid of a single ray of sunlight. But Dr. Armstrong 
was much of the time from home, his large and lucrative 
practice demanding his constant attention, and besides he 
was powerless to restrain his wife in her systematic per- 
secution of the helpless orphan. Old Kitty, too, though 
she often felt her blood boil at the injustice with which 
her little pet was treated, was unable to shield her. All 
ehe could do was to sympathize with her in secret, and 
at times of starvation supply her by stealth with the food 
of which she was deprived by Mrs. Armstrong’s un- 
natural and fiendish cruelty. 

Dr. Day was a professional rival of Dr. Armstrong’s, 
but between them naught but the most friendly feelings 
^ver existed. Both were well-educated, large-hearted 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


23 


men, equally devoted to their profession, and alike mas- 
ters of the art of healing. And their rivalry was of that 
peculiar kind which, so far from producing any ill-feeling 
between them, but served to bind them more closely 
together. !N'either was ever jealous of the success or 
envied the prosperity of the other — as good Dr. Arm- 
strong used to say when his shrewish wife tried, as she 
often did, to excite some envious feelings toward his 
competitor in his mind, the world was wide enough for 
both” — each felt this truth, and each was content to 
witness the prosperity of the other, rejoicing thereat as 
much as over their own. 

ITot so the ladies of the two households, however. 
Mrs. Day on her part possessed the same generous and 
noble feelings which animated her husband, but the 
peculiarity of Mrs. Armstrong’s disposition was such as 
to preclude all intercourse between them. Regarding 
Dr. Day with feelings of the most intense hatred, as the 
rival and enemy of her husband, she could not treat with 
common respect any one connected with him; and despite 
Mrs. Day’s efforts to conciliate her friendship, her feel- 
ings had been so often and offensively displayed that the 
good lady had given up the task in despair, and for a 
long time no intercourse had taken place between them, 
not even so much as speaking when they met by accident 
in the street. 

One raw day in the early part of December, Mrs. Day 
heard a child crying in a field near her house, which 
stood in the outskirts of the village. For a time she paid 
little attention to it, but her sympathies being at last 
aroused she went into the field, and there, sitting upon 
the ground, crying and almost perishing with cold, she 
found our little heroine. She was barefooted and bare- 
headed, and had on but a thin calico gown, with no 
under-clothing of any kind. 


24 


ravenia; or, 


“Why, my child,” said the good-hearted lady, ap- 
proaching her, “ what is the matter, and what are you 
doing here?” 

“ Oh ! lady,” said the little girl, speaking with diffi- 
culty amid her sobs, “ I came to drive home the cows, 
and I am so cold I cannot walk. What shall I do ? ” 

“ Come with me,” said Mrs. Day, her heart touched 
by the pitiful condition of the wretched little being be- 
fore her, “ and I will warm you and give you some better 
clothes.” 

And as she spoke she took her by the hand and 
raised her to her feet, but she was so benumbed with 
cold that she could not stand. • Mrs. Day was now really 
alarmed, and hastily calling a servant she ordered him 
to carry the little girl to her house. She was in a most 
pitiable condition. Her feet had been frozen and were 
bleeding, her hands were chapped, and from them too 
the blood was oozing in carmine drops. Mrs. Day had 
experienced a mother’s love, though she was now child- 
less, having buried two children, one after the other, 
dying at just about Ravenia’s age, and her heart bled as 
she contrasted her miserable condition with that of her 
own tenderly reared and carefully nurtured children. 
Besides, there was something in Kavenia’s appearance, 
despite her unkempt and untidy condition, which re- 
minded her of her own sweet Susie, and she immediately 
set about relieving her misery as far as in her power. 
She bathed and anointed her hands and feet, and 
brought warm clothing, shoes and stockings, from the 
well-filled wardrobe of her own departed little girl, 
combed her hair, and as she gazed into her bright and 
sparkling eyes, almost persuaded herself that it was in 
very deed her own little Susie once more returned to her. 
There were the same dark, curling ringlets, the same 
bright, hazel eyes, and the general outline of her head 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


25 


and features was the same. For a moment Mrs. Day 
could only gaze at her in speechless delight. 

‘‘ Who are you ? ’’ she asked, at length ; “ and where 
do you live ? ’’ 

The little girl told her her name and where she lived 
— that she had neither father nor mother, and that Mrs. 
Armstrong was at times very cruel to her. She had that 
day been sent, in the condition in which Mrs. Day found 
her, nearly a mile from home to drive up the cows to be 
milked, had suffered terribly with the cold, had been 
compelled to stop where the cows had lain to warm her 
little feet, and would without a doubt have perished had 
not Mrs. Day found her as she did. That good lady was 
touched by her sorrowful tale, and for a time not a little 
perplexed to know what to do. She felt that it was 
cruelty to send her back to her tyrant-mistress, and yet 
in view of the feelings which she knew Mrs. Armstrong 
entertained toward herself, she dreaded to interfere lest 
that lady should be more incensed and embittered against 
her. At length she decided to consult her husband and 
be governed by his advice. 

“Would you like to come and live with me ? she 
asked. 

“ Oh ! yes, indeed I would,^^ replied the little girl, 
her eyes sparkling with delight at the thought of so 
blessed a change. 

“Well, run home now,” said the lady, “ and we will 
see about it. Mrs. Armstrong might be angry if you 
stayed any longer; ” and leading her to the door, she 
kissed her and bade her good-bye, telling her to be a 
good girl and come again sometime. 

Ravenia dreaded a return to the place of bondage, for 
such Mrs. Armstrong’s house had become to her, and 
she contemplated again entering it with about the same 
feeling with which the slave who has once tasted the 
3 


26 


ravenia; or, 


sweets of fre’edom, contemplates a return to the chains 
and the lash of his taskmasters. But there was no help 
for it, and she sped on her way, assured of sympathy 
with her sufferings and delight at her good fortune from 
at least one person in the household. Honest old Kitty 
she knew would rejoice in her acquisitions, and to her 
she gave her first attention. 

‘‘ Oh ! Kitty, Kitty,’^ she cried, bounding in highest 
glee into the kitchen where Kitty was at work, “ see my 
new clothes. A warm flannel dress, and nice warm 
skirts, and my new shoes and stockings. And, Kitty, 
see what a nice, warm hood and cloak. Don't I look 
nice ? and, oh ! I am so comfortable — I don’t care for 
the cold now.” 

Old Kitty eyed her without speaking for a few 
moments. She was older than the little girl who was 
so much pleased with her improved personal appearance, 
:and she could not share in her exultation. She had 
known Mrs. Armstrong a long time, and she anticipated 
a scene when she first saw the new clothes. 

‘‘ Where have you been ? ” she said at last, and 
where did you get all them nice things ? ” 

‘‘ Oh ! a rich lady gave them to me. I was sitting 
down in the cow-pasture and was most froze, and the 
lady came out from a nice brick house, close by the 
pasture, and took me home with her and washed me 
and combed my hair, just as my mother used to, and 
then she put all these things on me and sent me home. 
Isn’t she a nice lady ? Oh ! but I do love her.” 

But Kitty shook her head doubtingly. She knew 
from the child’s description of the place, that it was Mrs. 
Day who had thus befriended her, and knowing her mis- 
tress’ feelings toward that lady, she feared that her well 
meant kindness would result in anything but good to 
Ravenia. And she was right. Before she had time to 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 27 

reply, the door was thrown violently open and Mrs. Arm- 
strong entered. 

‘‘ Well, you little huzzy ! said she, her eyes fairly 
blazing, “ you have got back at last, have you ? Where 
have you been? Begging, I should think. Where did 
you get those clothes you have on?” and she slapped 
the child first on one side of the head and then on the 
other. 

Eavenia told her that a rich lady gave them to her, 
and wanted her to come and live with her. 

At this Mrs. Armstrong was more enraged than ever, 
and again she turned upon the helpless child. 

“ Go this minute, and take off every stitch of that 
clothing,” she fairly screamed. ‘‘ Take oft* everything 
and put on your own clothes. They are good enough 
for a beggar like you.” 

‘‘Madam,” said Eavenia, turning her own bright 
eyes, which now fiashed like lightning, fall upon Mrs. 
Armstrong’s face, “ I will not take off these clothes, and 
you dare not make me do it. It was Mrs. Dr. Day who 
gave them to me, and if you make me take them off I 
will run away and go and live with her. And you know 
very well what she would think of you.” 

This threat was not without its effect. Intensely as 
Mrs. Armstrong hated Mrs. Day, she did not care about 
taking the risk of sending Eavenia back to her stripped 
of her bounty, and she forebore to press the matter. 

“ Go, rock Ella, you imp,” she cried, “ and do not let 
me hear a word out of your head. And bear in mind,” 
she hissed through her clinched teeth, with the look and 
accent of a demon, “ you are not to have a bite of dinner 
or supper, and when you go to bed to night I will settle 
with you for your impudence. Go and rock the cradle, 
and if you let Ella cry, I will skin you alive.” 

And to her sorrow poor Eavenia found that Mrs. 


28 


ravenia; or, 


Armstrong was indulging in no idle threat, for the day 
wore away — dinner time and supper time came, hut no 
morsel of food passed the lips of the half-famished child. 
Her tyrant mistress still burned with wrath against her, 
and was determined to vent that wrath even though the 
child were starved to death in so doing. But still her 
victim’s heart was light. She remembered Mrs. Day’s 
kind words and tender tones, and she felt sure Kitty 
would bring her some supper as soon as she could do so 
without Mrs. Armstrong’s knowledge. Hine o’clock 
came and Kavenia was sent to her own room with the 
assurance that she should have a horse whipping as soon 
as she was undressed. And, true to her demoniac prom- 
ise, Mrs. Armstrong repaired to her room armed with a 
large cowhide and there, upon the person of that help- 
less girl of eight years of age, was enacted a scene of 
brutality which would make the veriest slave driver who 
ever trod southern soil blush with shame. Detaining 
Kavenia with one hand, despite her screams, struggles 
and appeals for mercy, she plied the whip with the other 
until the child ceased to struggle, and the blood was 
flowing in streams from her lacerated back and shoulders, 
when flinging her from her to one corner of the room, 
she repaired to her own room and there slept as calmly 
as though nothing unusual had transpired. 

Ho sooner had she left the room than Kitty, who had 
been listening with the most agonized feelings to the 
scene being enacted within, entered, and spoke to the 
child, who still lay where Mrs. Armstrong in her brutal 
rage and fury had thrown her. But no answer was 
returned. Helpless, motionless she lay — not even a 
groan attested the intensity of her sufierings. Kitty was 
terrifled beyond measure, and raising the lifeless body in 
her arms, she flew through the streets in the direction of 
Dr. Day’s residence. Arriving there she rang the bell 


THE OUTCAST EEDEEMED. 


29 


with an energy and vehemence which startled the Doctor 
and his good lady, who were about retiring for the night. 
As soon as the door was opened Kitty rushed in, and 
depositing her lifeless burden on a sofa, exclaimed with 
true Irish warmth : 

“ She is dead, and Mrs. Armstrong has murdered 
her. She shall hang for it if my evidence is sufficient to 
have justice done her.’’ 

Mrs. Day at once recognized the immovable figure 
before her as the object of her bounty in the earlier part 
of the day, and was so much horror stricken as to he 
incapable of thought or action. The doctor was more com- 
posed, and advancing to the inanimate form, he proceeded 
to make an examination which soon convinced him that 
she was not dead but had only fainted, and he at once 
set to work to administer the proper restoratives, Kitty 
meanwhile returning to her own home. It was some- 
time before Kavenia opened her eyes, and when she did 
she was found to be in a light fever, and for a long time 
her recovery was by the doctor and his good lady con- 
sidered very doubtful, hut by the most unwearied atten- 
tion and careful nursing she was at length restored to 
complete health, when she was formally adopted by Dr. 
Day, with the sanction of the orphans’ court. 

But to return for a brief period to Mrs. Armstrong. 
The next morning after her brutal treatment of Kavenia, 
when the girl failed to make her appearance at the usual 
hour, she went in great wrath to call her, intending to 
visit her with still further chastisement for her contumacy, 
as she was pleased to term it, but *to her astonishment she 
was nowhere to be found. Suspecting that Kitty, whom 
she knew had protected her on several occasions from 
threatened violence, was responsible for this disappear- 
ance, she repaired at once to the kitchen and demanded 
of that worthy her whereabouts, to which Kitty replied : 


30 


ravenia; or, 


“ Shure, ma’am, and she be dead. You killed her in 
that awful batin’ you gave her last night, and I’ll soon 
see your ladyship hung for the foul murder.” 

Of course Mrs. Armstrong did not believe a word of 
it, and she was on the point of giving Kitty ‘‘ a piece of 
her mind,” when, without ringing the bell, or other cere- 
mony, an offieer entered the room, and walking up to 
Mrs. Armstrong laid his hand on her shoulder. 

‘‘You are my prisoner,” said he, and producing a 
warrant for her arrest he proceeded to read it in her 
hearing, but before it was finished she had fainted and 
fallen to the floor, for she saw in this advent of the officer 
only the verification of the prediction to which her ser- 
vant had just given vent. She was, however, soon 
restored to her senses, and, entering a carriage with the 
officer, in company with her husband, was driven to the 
office of a magistrate, Kitty being at the same time taken 
along as a witness. On arriving there they found Dr. 
Day waiting for them, for it was at his instance that the 
warrant had been issued, and from him Mrs. Armstrong 
learned that Kavenia was not dead. 

She was formally charged by Dr. Day (for so strongly 
were his feelings aroused by her brutality that not even 
his friendship for Dr. Armstrong could restrain him) 
with a brutal and outrageous assault upon Eavenia, and 
the trial proceeded. Kitty testified to the violence of the 
beating : that it was done with a large horsewhip, and 
that when Mrs. Armstrong left her, she (witness) had 
carried her to the house of Dr. Day, supposing her at 
the time to be dead.* Dr. Day deposed to her being 
brought to his house about ten o’clock at night by Kitty, 
insensible and covered with blood ; that one of her ribs 
was broken, her back frightfully lacerated, one eye 
severely injured as if by a blow from a whip, and other 
serious injuries on her person. He further testified that 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


81 


she was very ill from the effects of the heating, and that 
he regarded her recovery as somewhat doubtful. 

The defense was insanity, and Dr. Armstrong’s wealth, 
and his wife’s peculiarities of temper and disposition 
were sufficient to establish it, and she went scot free, 
much to the disgust of good, honest Kitty, who persisted 
in loudly protesting that “ the haythin who would bate 
such a swate child as she had Ravenia, ought to be hung 
anyway.” Of course it could not be expected that she 
would remain with Mrs. Armstrong after the feeling she 
had displayed in regard to this prosecution, and she, too,, 
went to make her home with Mrs. Day. 


32 


eavenia; or, 


CHAPTEE III. 

Eor the next few years the life of Eavenia presents no 
incidents of special interest. As has already been stated, 
Dr. Day had adopted her with all the formalities of the 
law, and she soon learned to regard them (as we will 
hereafter call them,) as her parents, and surely their 
treatment of her was all that she could have anticipated 
or wished had they been her own instead of her adopted 
parents. Their means enabled them to gratify every 
proper wish of hers, and in their kind and judicious con- 
duct towards her they soon effaced from her guileless 
spirit the recollections of the cruelty of her former mis- 
tress. 

It must not be understood by the reader that Dr. and 
Mrs. Day at all times and under all circumstances com- 
plied with the wishes of their child without regard to 
their reasonableness — far from it. Although they 
poured out upon her the full measure of their hearts’ 
affection, their good sense and discretion were too great 
to permit them to fall into the error, so often committed 
by parents, of regarding her will and her inclination, 
however capricious, as the first thing to be considered at 
all times. 

There are two classes of parents in the world, either 
of which wholly fail to comprehend their duty in the 
rearing and education of their offspring. Indeed, it 
seems sometimes as though their special mission was 
to ruin their children, body and soul forever, instead of 
fitting them for true happiness here and hereafter. ITo 
better schemes could be devised than those adopted by 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


33 


the two classes to which reference is here made, and both 
of which are equally pernicious in their results. 

The first class are those who deem it a sufficient reason 
for refusing or condemning anything, simply that their 
children desire or affect it, who make it a point never to 
comply with the wishes of their offspring when they can 
possibly avoid it, whose whole code of family government 
is tinged with almost tho severity of the Draconian laws, 
who appeal to no higher motive to secure the obedience 
and duty of their children than their sense of fear, who 
tell you gravely that a child’s spirit must he broken ere 
you can control it, and whose favorite admonition to 
their offspring is, “ If you do that again. I’ll skin you 
alive ! ” Oh ! beware, parents, how you adopt this cruel 
and cheerless system of government. Be assured that if 
you do, it will be entirely owing to the providence of 
God, if your child does not “ bring down your gray hairs 
with sorrow to the grave.” By your systematic thwart- 
ings of his childish inclinations and desires you cow his 
temper, and by the constant and unnecessarily severe 
exercise of your authority, you turn the sentiment, which 
otherwise would be the purest and most enduring love, 
springing up into everlasting life in his little heart, into 
something very much resembling the smouldering fire of 
hate, scorching and consuming all his better nature, and 
in time he comes (and very justly too,) to regard you as 
his most indefatigable enemy instead of the true friend 
and counselor and guide that you should be. And when 
this point has been reached, your child is ready for any 
deed of evil, all the more readily embraced and per- 
formed, because he knows that he is thereby running 
courlter to your wishes. 

How often have we heard fathers say — aye, and 
mothers too — and not unfrequently in the hearing of 
their children, “ I do believe mine are the worst children 


34 


ravbnia; or. 


in the world. It really seems as though they tried to go 
contrary to my express wishes in everything.’^ Ah ! 
father and mother, examine your own conduct towards 
those whom you censure so bitterly, and see if they have 
not some reason to say the same of you. Have you never, 
capriciously and without reason, checked their innocent, 
harmless, childish amusement, and wrung their little 
hearts with sorrow without any motive which they could 
understand, or without any cause save that you had the 
power, and could thereby show your authority over them ? 
Have you never sternly and abruptly refused any request, 
the granting of which would have made your child in- 
finitely happy and caused no inconvenience or injury to 
yourself or any one else, merely because you happened to 
be in a bad humor, because something in your business 
affairs had gone wrong, or for some other reason totally 
disconnected with family affairs, or for no reason at all ? 
Have you never punished your children with unreason- 
able severity for something entirely harmless in itself, 
and which you only chose to construe into some contempt 
of your authority ? If you have done these things con- 
stantly and regularly, depend upon it, there lies the secret 
of your children being so much worse than your neigh- 
bor’s. 

It is far from being our purpose to advocate the 
theory that parents should never exercise any authority 
or restraint over their children. This were a fault equally 
pernicious with the one we have been considering, and 
this leads us to speak of that other class to which allusion 
has already been made. 

They are those, not unfrequently met, who seem at all 
times and under all circumstances to regard the inclina- 
tions of their children as swprema lex, who are never able 
to say ‘‘ no ! ” to anything the child may ask, who visit 
the most heinous offenses, or the most direct violations 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


3 ^ 


of parental authority with no punishment of greater 
severity than a few words of gentle remonstrance, which, 
from the tone and manner of their delivery, have, beyond 
the moment in which they are uttered, no effect upon the 
child who straightway repeats his offense, and again re- 
ceives the same punishment. The child, trained and 
educated in this way, in due time comes to regard his own 
will, as his parents have done before him, as the only 
guide to his actions, and when this point has been reached^ 
this child, like the other, is on the high road to ruin. 
For in time he will come to apply this same principle to 
his intercourse with the world beyond his own family 
circle, and then let it occasion no surprise, if he end his 
career in the prison or on the gibbet. 

Between these two extremes lies the happy mean 
where the will of the parent, not capricious and not 
uncontrolled, but tempered with reason, judgment, 
justice and a due regard for the feeling and frailties of 
childhood, is the standard, where a mixture of love and 
firmness, sustained at all times by the most perfect truth- 
fulness towards the child, are the means used to induce, 
and, if need be, to enforce obedience ; where the parent 
deals with the child as though both were reasonable 
beings, and never suffers his action to be infiuenced by 
passion or prejudice, but calmly hears and judges ; where 
punishment of any kind, when necessary, is inflicted by 
the parent with moderation and kindness, ever from a 
sense of duty, and not in a spirit of vindictiveness or 
revenge, and in that mode and to that extent only whichy. 
in the judgment of the parent, is best calculated to effect 
the object in view: the correction of the error into which 
the child has fallen, parent ever yet successfully 
governed a child unless he occupied just this mean, and 
had the most perfect control of his temper when dealing. 


36 


ravenia; or, 


with his children, and this was just the position occupied 
by Dr. Day and his excellent wife. 

Under their kind and judicious training Eavenia 
grew up; and as circlinig years added development to 
her form and strength to her intellect, she was the delight 
and pride of her adopted parents, and won the love of 
all who knew her. The education which had been begun 
by her mother, but which had been almost totally neg- 
lected at Mrs. Armstrong’s, was resumed by Mrs. Day, 
and she displayed the same capacity and fondness for the 
acquisition of knowledge which had marked her earlier 
years. And thus she went on, each day adding some- 
thing to the stores of her mind, until she had attained the 
age of fourteen years, when it was decided by her 
parents to send her to a boarding school to complete her 
education. Oh ! fatal determination. Could they have 
foreseen what the consequences of this ill-advised step 
would be, how much rather would they have seen her 
enclosed in ‘‘the narrow house appointed for all the 
living,” than have thus sent her out from beneath the 
sheltering folds of their affectionate protection. 

As for Eavenia, she was almost wild with delight at 
the thought of going to school. True, it would involve 
separation from her much loved parents, and this reflec- 
tion gave a tinge of sadness to her otherwise radiant 
visions, but there she would indulge her brightest antici- 
pations relative to the acquisition of learning, and fully 
slake her thirst at the fountain of knowledge, and to one 
of her temperament and disposition, this were an ample 
compensation for all the pangs of separation. She there- 
fore eagerly embraced the proposition, made by her 
mother, to go to a private boarding school, kept by a Mr. 
and Mrs. Shepley, in the town of Huntingdon, something 
over one hundred miles from her home, and for the next 
two or three weeks she was very busy with preparations 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


3T 


for her . journey. The doctor, meanwhile, had corre- 
sponded with the principal of the school and secured her 
admission there, and all arrangements were made for her 
becoming an inmate of the institution at the opening of 
the fall term, which begun in September. 

At last came the time for her to leave her dearly 
loved and cherished home, and for the first time Eavenia 
regarded with something of regret the change she was 
about making, and with a sort of indefinable dread 
looked forward to the period when she should be de- 
prived of her mother’s guardian care and watchfulness. 
Was it a presentiment of coming evil ? Slowly and sadly 
she wandered about the house, taking a last look at 
every, dear place upon which memory would fondly lin- 
ger in her hours of absence, and bidding farewell to all 
the pets from whom she was to be so long separated. 
And when she finally entered the carriage to be driven 
to the railway station, it was with difficulty that she 
restrained her tears, notwithstanding the presence of her 
parents, both of whom were to accompany her to her 
new home. She felt as if she was leaving forever all 
that was dear to her in this world, to enter upon a new 
and untried sphere, of whose danger and toils she was 
entirely ignorant, and which she would be compelled to 
encounter without the support and guidance of that ma- 
ternal afiection which had been her stay and her shield 
for the last six years. What wonder that in her inmost 
soul she shrank from the encounter ? 

In due time they arrived at the town of Huntingdon, 
and Eavenia was introduced in form to the proprietors 
of her new home. The school was very pleasantly 
located, and Eavenia was charmed with the kind and 
genial bearing of Mr. and Mrs. Shepley. They were old 
acquaintances of Hr. Day — a circumstance of which 
Eavenia had till then been ignorant — and this fact added 


38 


ravenia; or, 


to the attractions of the place, and their evident kindness 
and disposition to make her comfortable, did much to 
dispel the gloom which had hung around her upon her 
arrival. 

Mr. and Mrs. Day remained over night at the school, 
completed the few arrangements necessary to insure, as 
they fondly supposed, her comfort and welfare, and then 
with a tender kiss of parental love and affection, left her 
for home. And it was when they were gone that 
Davenia felt in all its force the loneliness of her situation. 
She was among entire strangers — the mother upon whom 
she was wont to lean for advice and encouragement was 
far away, and she with all her inexperience of the world 
and all her ignorance of the dangers and temptations 
which could beset her must now stand or fall alone. But 
Mr. and Mrs. Shepley proved themselves to be friends 
indeed, and she very soon came to feel herself quite at 
home and at her ease with them. 

She was to remain at this school for three years, only 
visiting her home during vacations. The time seemed 
very long, but then she would hear from them often, 
could visit them two or three times during each year, 
and would she not be fully compensated in the end by 
the splendid education she was determined to achieve 
during the time ? So Eavenia reasoned within herself, 
and thus reasoning she quietly settled down to her alloted 
tasks, fully resolved that, if, by any effort of her’s it could 
be prevented, her parents should never have occasion 
to regret having sent her there. 

Her parents meantime returned home, but very sad 
and lonely seemed the old house. The very sunlight 
seemed to have gone out of it with the departure of 
Eavenia. Her voice was no longer heard gayly caroling 
as she skipped from room to room ; her eager, gladsome 
face and bright smile no longer greeted the old doctor as 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


39 


he returned in the evening from his daily round of visits, 
and ever and anon Mrs. Day found herself starting into 
the garden in search of her lost darling. Her husband 
was much of the time away from home, and this loneliness 
became at last so insupportable to Mrs. Day that she sent 
for a nephew of the doctor’s to come and make his home 
with them. 

Henry Day was at this time about twenty-one years 
of age, and was a fine looking, well-educated young 
man. He was the son of a deceased brother of the 
doctor ; had been left an orphan very young by the death 
of both his parents within a few weeks of each other ; 
had been reared by them, and was a great favorite of 
Mrs. Day. He had seen Kavenia once when he was on 
a visit to his uncle and aunt at a time when she was 
about ten years old, but he had but little recollection of 
her, and when Mrs. Day in her letter to him told him 
that Eavenia had left them for a time, he could hardly 
remember for the moment who Eavenia was. 

Mrs. Day’s letter reached at a most opportune 
moment. He had been for sometime "engaged in the 
study of the law, and had pursued it with so much 
energy and avidity as seriously to impair his health, and 
render relaxation for a time a matter of absolute neces- 
sity. He, therefore, determined to accept her invitation 
without delay, at least for a season, and, bidding adieu 
to Coke and Blackstone, to endeavor to regain, in the 
salubrious clime of Western Pennsylvania, the health 
which was so necessary to the successful preservation of 
the plan he had marked out for his future career. And 
in due time he arrived at Kittaning, where he was wel- 
comed by Mrs. Day with as much earnestness as if he 
had been her own, instead of merely her foster-son, and 
immediately installed in the best room of the mansion. 

“Why, Harry,” said the old lady, when the first 


40 


ravenia; or. 


warm greeting was over, “ how tall and manly you have 
grown. But you ought to he ashamed of yourself for 
staying away as long as you have. Just to think, it is 
four years since you were here, and poor Eavenia in- 
quiring every few days when cousin Harry was coming 
again.” 

“How, my good aunt-mother,” said the young man, 
laughing, “ don’t commence your flattery so soon, or I 
shall surely leave Kittaning and hasten hack to Phila- 
delphia hy the flrst train. Your love is very grateful to 
me, and the thing I most highly prize on earth, hut I 
cannot stand flattery.” 

“Are you very sure the love of your aunt-mother, as 
you call her, is the one most highly prized hy you ? ” 
said the old lady, archly. “ Are you sure there is not 
some other love prized as high or higher than her’s ? ” 

“ Indeed am I, my dear mother,” he replied, kindly 
and reverently taking her hand and pressing it to his lips. 
“Ho one ever has or ever can divide your empire over 
my heart, my more than mother,” said he, his eyes 
moistening at the recollection of all her goodness to 
him in days past and gone. 

The good lady felt her own eyes moisten as she 
marked the humidity of his, and hastily turning away 
without further remark she sought her own room, there 
to pour out her soul in thankfulness to the Father of all 
for having so blessed to his eternal good, the teachings 
which she had striven long years before to instill into his 
youthful mind. Yerily she had cast her bread upon the 
waters, and now, after many days, it was returned to her 
again, with more than four-fold increase. 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


41 


CHAPTER IV. 

When Ravenia had been at school about two months, 
Mrs. Day concluded, in company with Harry, to pay her 
a visit, partly because she wanted to see how she was 
getting along, and partly because she desired to renew 
the acquaintance between the two young people. For 
mere child as Ravenia still was, Mrs. Day had already 
indulged a hope, or, perhaps to speak more precisely, a 
wish, that she might at some day be related to her by 
other and dearer ties than those of adoption. Let no one 
accuse the good old lady of being a matchmaker, for she 
was not, but she loved both her foster children dearly, 
and would have done anything to promote their welfare 
and happiness. She knew them both good and pure 
and noble, and felt that their dispositions were such as 
would suit each other, and if they should happen to love 
and finally wed, she felt assured then, and consequently 
her happiness would be enhanced thereby. Let no one, 
therefore, condemn her for this innocent attempt to 
further the dearest wish of her heart. 

Hotice of the intended visit, and of the day of their 
arrival was dispatched to Ravenia, and in due time Harry 
and his “ aunt mother’^ arrived at the railroad depot in 
Huntingdon, where they found Ravenia awaiting them, 
accompanied by one of the teachers of the school, a Miss 
Davilla, and a very intelligent, sensible girl. As soon as 
the ceremony of introduction had been mutually per- 
formed, they entered the Shepley carriage, which was in 
waiting, and in a few minutes were set down at the 
boarding-house, where a hearty welcome and warm sup- 
per awaited them. But nothing could exceed the aston- 
4 


42 


ravenia; or, 


ishment of Harry Day at the change in Eavenia’s appear- 
ance. He only remembered her as a sprightly little elf 
of ten years, whose merry grimaces and quaint mirth 
were sufficient at any time to upset the utmost degree of 
gravity he might assume, and he had expected to find her, 
although about fifteen, still a little girl wearing short 
dresses, playing with dolls and the like. Hay, he had 
even gone so far as to provide himself with sundry and 
divers childish presents with which to win his way to her 
infantile heart, and when, instead of the little sprite which 
his fancy had conjured up, he beheld a tall and graceful 
young woman, beautiful as a Hebe, and of almost queenly 
bearing, he was so overwhelmed with surprise as hardly 
to be able to treat her with ordinary gallantry and polite- 
ness. And anon occurred to him the recollection of the 
ridiculous character of the presents he had provided for 
her, and it was with the utmost difficulty that he re- 
strained himself from laughing in her face as they sat 
opposite each other at tea table. 

When the meal was finished and they had withdrawn 
to the sitting room, Eavenia challenged her cousin, as 
she called Harry, although in no degree related to him, 
to a game of draughts, saying laughingly that he used to 
beat her badly, but now she thought she was a match for 
him. He accepted her good-natured challenge and they 
withdrew to one corner of the room while Mr. and Mrs. 
Shepley, Mrs. Day and Miss Davilla seated themselves 
near the fire and engaged in conversation. While they 
were arranging the men, Eavenia asked, in a low tone : 

“What was the matter with you at the tea table, 
cousin Harry? I observed that you were very much 
amused at something, and am very anxious to know 
what you found in our really very pleasant home to 
excite your mirth to such a degree.’’ 

“ It was nothing that I found here. I was only laugh- 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


43 


ing at my own thoughts,” replied Harry, somewhat con- 
fusedly, and coloring slightly, for he had hoped that no 
one had noticed his unintentional display. 

“ And pray, of what were you thinking ? ” persisted 
Eavenia. ‘‘ You must tell me so that I can share your 
merriment, for I dearly love to laugh,” said she, break- 
ing into a little ripple of mirth which Harry thought was 
the sweetest music he had ever heard. For it must be 
confessed that Ravenia’s rare beauty had sadly enchanted 
him, and that even in this brief time he had fallen deeply 
in love with his “ fair cousin.” 

Harry at first refused to gratify her curiosity, but so 
persistently did she urge him to the revelation, that at 
last he made a clean breast of the whole matter — told 
her he had pictured her as a little girl in short dresses, 
what preparations he had made to win her esteem, and 
all that, and that when, instead of a little girl, he had 
found a beautiful young woman, the ridiculousness of his 
position had come across his mind, and caused the ill- 
concealed mirth she had witnessed. It was now her time 
'to be embarrassed for a moment, but she speedily rallied 
and insisted that he should give her the presents, not- 
withstanding the mistake, saying she would always keep 
them as mementos of the best and most gallant cousin 
any one ever had. ‘‘And now,” said she, “that that mat- 
ter is fully and amicably settled, let us play our game.” 

Harry was no mean proficient at the game, and four 
years before he had beaten her with the utmost ease, but 
now his thoughts were pre-occupied and he paid far more 
attention to Ravenia’s face than to the movements of the 
men upon the checkered field. On her part, she was 
free from embarrassment and deeply interested in the 
game, and she played with unusual care and skill and 
without noticing his abstraction. But when for the third 
time she proclaimed victory, and added : “ Why, Harry, 


44 


ravenia; or, 


you did not get a single king that game,’’ she then began 
rallying him on his miserable playing. 

“Perhaps,” said she, laughing, “there is some game 
you can play better. If so, mention it and we will see 
what we can do.” 

But her merriment only confused Harry the more, 
and he muttered something about “ not feeling very 
well,” which Eavenia at once understood as a mere 
excuse. 

“ I will see what is the matter,” said Mrs. Day, com- 
ing up and seating herself by the side of the young man. 
“ Why, Harry, what does ail you ? You know you 
always beat the doctor, and he was fully a match for 
Eavenia, but here she is beating you with the utmost 
ease.” 

“ Yes,” cried Eavenia, “ I am no match for papa, but 
I have beaten Harry every game. And see here,” she 
continued, “ here is another game in which he does not 
get a king.” And then, bending over toward him, she 
continued in a low tone, and with an arch look, “ I know 
what ails you. You are too much engaged watching 
Miss Davilla to play checkers. I will call her to take 
my place in the game and then you will perhaps do 
better.” 

At this remark Harry colored deeply, and rising, 
remarked that it was bed-time and he thought they had 
better defer the game till some other time. “ I promise 
you, however,” he added, “ that you shall not wear your 
honors long. When we renew the game you shall be as 
badly beaten as I have been to-night.” 

“ All I have to say to that,” replied Eavenia, “ is that 
if you make your threat good we will have to play when 
Miss Davilla is not present. It is very evident that you 
cannot play while she is looking at you.” 

And wishing each other a kind “ good night,” they 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


45 


separated to their respective rooms. But it was long 
before poor Harry could compose himself to sleep. His 
mind was full of Ravenia, and it soon became apparent 
to himself that he was hopelessly in love with her. The 
vision of her bright beauty was constantly before him, 
enchanting his senses and obscuring every other object, 
while her innocence and childish sweetness, and the high 
character given her by Mrs. Day, had completed the 
captivity. Of course he had no thought of marrying her 
at present — she was too young to assume the relation of 
wife — hut before yielding himself to the influences of the 
drowsy god, he had fully made up his mind to woo, and, 
if possible, win her when her school term should have 
expired. And with this resolve firmly fixed in his mind 
he sought his pillow and was soon in the land dreams. 

The thoughts of Ravenia were far difierent from those 
of Mr. Day, as she sought her room that night. Her 
chief feeling was one of disappointment because Dr. Day 
had not accompanied the party from her home. Hot 
that she loved him any better than she did her mother, 
but when she was informed of the contemplated visit, no 
intimation had been given of his remaining at home, and 
she had fully expected to see him. And thus expecting, 
she had prepared a little memento of filial affection in 
the shape of a finely embroidered neck- tie, and after all 
he did not come. The excuse given by her mother for 
his absence, although a very good one^ was far from set- 
ting her mind at ease. A violent and fearful epidemic 
was raging in the vicinity of Kittaning, and numerous 
deaths were the result of its visitation, and the doctor 
felt that his duty to his patrons forbade his leaving home 
even for a very short period, and though she realized and 
appreciated the motive which kept him at home, her dis- 
appointment was none the less keen, and besides, what 
assurance had she that, thus mingling constantly with 


46 


RA.VENIA; OR, 

the fatal disease, he would not himself fall a victim to its 
malignity ? 

While she was musing upon this subject her thoughts 
were interrupted by a low tap at her door, and upon 
opening it, she was somewhat surprised to find Mrs. Day. 

“ Why, mamma,’^ said she, opening wide her bril- 
liant hazel eyes with surprise, ‘‘I supposed you were 
asleep long before this time.’’ 

Oh ! no, my daughter, I thought I would come and 
sleep with you,” replied her mother. 

“I am so glad you did, dear mamma,” replied the 
loving girl ; “ I wanted to have a good, quiet visit with 
you before you went home, and now is just the time.” 

Long time the mother and daughter passed in loving 
converse ere they yielded themselves to the infiuence of 
Morpheus. Mrs. Day had many inquiries to make of 
Ravenia regarding her new home, the school, the pro- 
gress she was making in her studies, and the like, and 
Ravenia on her part was none the less desirous of learn- 
ing everything that had taken place in and about Kit- 
taning since the day when, almost in tears, she had hid 
it adieu, as it then seemed to her, forever. After all 
questions on these subjects had been asked and answered, 
Mrs. Day said : 

“Well, my dear child, how do you like your cousin 
Harry ? ” 

“ Oh ! really, I think he is splendid. He is so good 
looking, and I am sure he is as good and kind as he 
looks,” replied Ravenia, enthusiastically. “ And then I 
am sure he is in love with Miss Davilla. Do you remem- 
ber how he blushed when I only mentioned her name ? 
I really wish they might love each other, for she is such 
a sweet girl.” 

“You are very much mistaken about his being in 
love with her,” said Mrs. Day, quietly. “ He has 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


47 


hardly spoken to her or looked at her since he has been 
here. But who and what is she ? 

‘‘ As you are already aware, she is one of the teachers 
in the school, and she is a sister of Mrs. Shepley. She 
has considerable property in her own right, but teaches 
from pure love of teaching. It is not necessary that she 
should follow this avocation, hut her whole heart is in it, 
and hence she does.’^ 

‘‘And doubtless she succeeds admirably. It is cer- « 
tain to be the case in any avocation. 'W hoever goes to 
any pursuit with a feeling as if they were being driven 
into it by necessity or other cause, against their will^ 
rarely succeed, while one who regards their occupation 
more in the light of a pleasure than a duty, will as rarely 
fail. There may be, and doubtless are, instances of men 
who have engaged in some given occupation from a 
strong sense of duty, and have met with a reasona- 
ble degree of success, but the general rule is as I have 
stated, and it will be found that where one has succeeded 
in an eminent degree in any avocation adopted from a 
sense of duty, that sense of duty has been so strong as to 
render obedience to its dictates a pleasure. But,^’ said 
Mrs. Bay, changing the subject, “who is the young 
gentleman who sat opposite you at the tea table? I 
believe no one thought to introduce him to me.” 

“ Oh ! that was Mr. Myers, another one of the teach- 
ers, or rather the assistant superintendent of the school,” 
replied Eavenia. 

“ Bo you like him ? ” asked Mrs. Bay, quietly. 

“ Yes,” replied Eavenia, “ I like him very well. He 
is very well educated and very entertaining, and seems 
to be a very excellent young man, and is a general 
favorite in the school.” 

“ He may be all that you have painted him,” replied 


I 


48 


ravenia; or, 


Mrs. Day, seriously, ‘‘but my heart sadly misgives me that 
you are mistaken. There is a something in his general 
appearance I do not like, and on one or two occasions I 
thought I detected in his countenance a sort of cold, 
cynical expression, indicative of selfishness and hypocrisy. 
He is not such a man as I would select for an intimate 
friend until I had tested him thoroughly. It is true I 
know nothing of him, and it may be that I speak from 
some unaccountable prejudice against him — some aver- 
sion for which there is no just cause.” 

“ I am quite sure, dear mamma, that such is the case,” 
replied the girl. “ Ho one connected with the school is 
more highly esteemed by all than he, and I am sure your 
dislike has no foundation whatever. So please dismiss 
it, my dear mother. I think very highly of him, and I do 
not want my dear mamma to dislike any of my teachers,” 
said Ravenia, kissing her mother tenderly. 

“ It may be as you say,” replied Mrs. Day, quite molli- 
fied by the caress. “ I will try and dismiss my prejudice 
against him, in the face of your earnest defense. . I trust 
my little daughter has too much sense to be imposed 
upon, and of course you know much more of him than 
I do.” 

“ You will find, dear mother, that in this one instance 
you are wrong and I am right,” replied the girl, with 
another affectionate kiss. “If you ever become well 
acquainted with him you will like him as much as you 
dislike him now.” 

“ It may be,” said the old lady ; “ and now shall we 
go to sleep ? I have some headache and fear I will not 
be quite well in the morning, if I lay awake all night.” 

“ Then by all means let us go to sleep. Good night, 
mamma,” said the loving girl with another kiss. 

“ Good night, my daughter, and may He who watches 
even the sparrows as they fall, ever have you in His holy 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 49 

keeping/’ said the old lady, fervently, and in a few 
moments she was sound asleep. 

But although Bavenia had consented very readily to 
a discontinuance of the conversation, for she had her 
secret in regard to William Myers which she did not 
care to reveal to her mother (fatal mistake !), she slept 
not for a long time. The conversation with her mother 
had awakened a train of thought which would not down 
at her bidding, and which for hours resisted the advances 
of the drowsy god as he sought in vain to enfold her in 
his strong embrace. She was thinking of her first inti- 
mate acquaintance with Myers; of her mother’s preju- 
dice against him ; how unreasonable they seemed to her, 
and last, but my no means least, she was trying to analyze 
her own feelings toward him. But we will leave her 
thus for a moment, while, as William Myers will play a 
very important part in this narrative, we give the reader 
a more particular introduction to him. 

William Myers was an orphan and a distant relative 
of Mr. Shepley. He was born in the State of Hew York, 
and at the time of his presentation to the reader was 
about, twenty-seven years of age. His father was the 
pastor of a small country parish, a very worthy and 
learned man, while his mother was a pious. God-fearing 
woman, and they had taken great pains in his young 
days to lay the foundation in his mind of a good educa- 
tion, and had sought earnestly to instill into his heart the 
purest precepts of morality and piety. But country 
clergymen seldom amass much property, and when his 
parents died, within about six months of each other, their 
son was left, at the age of about fourteen years, a penni- 
less orphan. In this dilemma a brother of Mrs. Myers, 
a merchant in the great city of Hew York, took the boy 
into his family, and as William had great aptitude for 
learning anything he attempted, he sent him to school, 


50 


ravenia; or, 


intending to fit him for some one of the learned profes- 
sions. But the uncle was too much immured in the 
labyrinths of business to give much attention to the 
moral culture of the boy — he imagined that when he 
boarded, clothed and lodged him, and paid without mur- 
muring his quarterly tuition bills, he was doing his full 
duty — and in that gigantic school and stronghold of vice, 
the commercial metropolis, the precepts of his father and 
mother, unrefreshed and unenforced, were but a feeble 
protection. He was just of the age when boys are most 
susceptible of evil infiuences, and but a short time 
elapsed until he could handle cards, throw dice, toss ofl* 
a bumper of whisky, or take the name of his Maker in 
vain as readily as any of his reckless associates. 

Hor were these the only vices in which he indulged. 
The painted and bedizened wretches — lowest beings in 
the scale of humanity — who daily and nightly flaunt upon 
Broadway, luring to swift destruction thousands of the 
brightest and best of our land, soon ensnared him, and 
the triumph of vice and infamy over his soul was com- 
plete. And, as a natural consequence, even the generous 
allowance of pocket money aflPorded him by his uncle 
was all too small to supply his wants, and he resorted to 
pilfering from his uncle’s cash drawer to supply his defi- 
ciencies. At last, however, his demands became so extrava- 
gant that he could no longer rely upon this source, and in 
an evil hour he forged his uncle’s name to a check for five 
hundred dollars. Of course the forgery was soon discov- 
ered, and, though for family reasons his uncle declined to 
prosecute him and hushed the matter up as much as possi- 
ble, his stay there was at an end. Giving him a small sum 
of money, and sternly forbidding him ever to show his face 
in his house again, the uncle sent him adrift into the 
wide, wide world to do for himself or starve as might be. 

Had a diflferent course been pursued, his reformation 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


61 


might have been effected, but his uncle was a man of too 
much austerity, and of too stern integrity himself to over- 
look or suffer anything to mitigate in the slightest degree, 
such a departure from the path of rectitude as this. He, 
therefore, instead of stretching out his hand to his erring 
kinsman, and endeavoring to lift him from the slough of 
infamy into which he had fallen, with harsh words and 
frowning brow, drove him forth under circumstances 
which were almost sure to accomplish the ruin already 
begun. 

The reader will, no doubt, and justly too, censure the 
harsh spirit which impelled the uncle thus to drive his 
nephew apparently to irretrievable ruin, but wherein 
does his course differ from that of society in general ? 
Let any one, under any circumstances, make a single 
false step or deviate in the slightest particular from the 
strict line of rectitude, and though he may have possessed 
before the purity of an angel, the memory of former 
goodness is at once obliterated and naught is remem- 
bered or spoken of in the community but the transgres- 
sion. Even professed followers of the Lamb of God, 
instead of going about doing good ’’ to the weak and 
erring, as was the wont of their Divine Master during 
His pilgrimage on earth, repulse with coldest scorn the 
suppliant who, conscious of his own weakness, implores 
assistance on his halting way, and with a few words of 
heartless and meaningless advice dismisses the poor men- 
dicant, thanking God, as did the Pharisee of old, that 
they are “ not like this poor publican.’’ Gentle woman, 
too, whose noblest mission on earth is to refine and ele- 
vate frail humanity, when brought in contact with sin 
and degradation, especially among her own sex, forgets 
the work assigned to her here and the Divine injunction, 
and gathering her robes about her person to avoid con. 
tamination, says to the erring one, “ Pass on, I am more 


52 


ravenia; or, 


holy than thou,^’ goes her way and straightway forgets 
the appeal which has been made to her higher and nobler' 
feelings. Oh! how much of misery, and sorrow, and 
suffering would be saved to the human family if people 
would but obey the Divine command ‘‘ Whatsoever ye 
would that others should do to you, do ye even so unto 
them.” And who can venture to say how many precious 
souls have been driven, by the scorn and implacability of 
society, into the realms of eternal darkness beyond the 
grave, which might, by a different course, have been 
made precious jewels in the diadem of our Heavenly 
Eedeemer ? But to return to our narrative. 

For the next few years the life of William Myers was 
a wild and stormy one. With no fixed place of abode, 
without any settled avocation, wandering from place to 
place, and living by his wits, there was scarcely any form 
of vice or immorality in which he did not freely indulge. 

Meantime, Mr. Shepley had founded his school and 
had advertised for competent teachers to fill the several 
departments. One of these advertisements chanced to 
meet the eye of William Myers, and he instantly formed 
a resolution to change entirely his habits and mode of 
life. As has been already intimated, he was possessed of 
a very good education, although he had never graduated 
at any institution of learning, and he determined to apply 
to this distant relative for a situation. Hastily concoct- 
ing a story to account for his being out of employment, 
he made the best of his way to Huntingdon, passed a 
satisfactory examination, and in dug time was admitted a 
member of Mr. Shepley’s family, and a teacher of the 
new school. Time passed, and at the advent of Ravenia 
to the school, he had been connected with it about five 
years, and had been promoted from a mere teacher to the 
position of assistant superintendent, and during all that 
time he had never once been known to stray from the 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


&3 

path of rectitude. True, he had occasionally indulged in 
some of his former vices, but so carefully had he concealed 
his derelictions under the cloak of religion (vile hypocrite 
that he was) that no one about the school suspected any- 
thing of his true character, and all accorded to him the 
same reputation which Ravenia had given him in her 
conversation with her mother. But alas! how cruelly 
were they all to be undeceived, for the vile instincts of 
his mind were not eradicated — they were only concealed, 
and were destined to burst forth at a future time with 
consuming violence. 

His first acquaintance with Ravenia, aside from that 
which must necessarily exist between teacher and pupil, 
had been on this wise. The family had gone out to a 
tea party and Ravenia went down to the parlor to cheer 
her loneliness with some music, for she had been thinking 
of the dear ones at home, and her heart was very mellow. 
As she finished apiece of music a voice behind exclaimed, 
“ Beautiful.^’ Wheeling around in surprise, for she had 
not heard any one enter, she beheld Mr. Myers, and 
would have fied from the room but that he besought her 
so earnestly to stay, saying he was lonesome and wished 
she would charm the evil spirit away from him. 

“ Why, Mr. Myers,’’ said Ravenia, “ I thought you 
had gone to the tea party.” 

“ Ho,” said he, “ I had a headache and begged them 
to excuse me. And right glad am I that I stayed at home 
since it resulted in such a treat as you have just favored 
me with, though unintentionally.” 

‘‘ If you fiatter my poor performance, intended only 
for myself,” said she, laughingly, “ I will at once retire 
to my own room and leave you to the solitude which the 
fiatterer deserves.” 

“Well, Miss Ravenia, if you will sit down I will 
promise not to say a word which can be construed into 


54 


ravenia; or, 


flattery,’^ said he, politely placing a chair for her, which 
she accepted. ‘‘ And now,’’ he continued, “ what shall we 
do to pass away the time ? Do you play at draughts ? ” 

“ I used to play some with papa and cousin Harry,” 
she replied, but I do not play a very good game.” 

“ I am very fond of the game,” said he, ‘‘ shall we 
play ? ” 

“ With all my heart, if you choose.” 

This settled the matter, and getting the board, they 
were soon immersed in the game, in the intervals of 
which Myers gave Ravenia a sketch of his life, omitting 
only such parts as might have a tendency to injure him 
in her mind, for he had already in his own base heart 
formed the deliberate determination to ruin her if within 
his power. He told her of his orphanage, the hardships 
(as he pictured them) he had endured since, and all that 
sort of thing, and said : 

‘‘I do not suppose. Miss Ravenia, you have ever 
thought what it is to lose a kind and loving mother. I 
thank God you have never had any such experience.” 

Indeed, Mr. Myers, you are very much mistaken,” 
said she, her beautiful eyes filling with tears at the 
thought ; I am, like yourself, an orphan. My father I 
do not remember at all, and my mother, who died when 
I was six years old, I can but just remember. Dr. and 
Mrs. Day are only my adopted parents, though I am sure 
they are as kind to me as my own parents could have 
been had they lived, and as such I love them.” 

Their mutual orphanage at once created a bond of 
sympathy between them, and from that time they were 
familiar friends. Myers told Ravenia he had neither 
brother nor sister, and asked her to be a sister to him, 
and she in turn had requested him to assume the relation 
of brother to her, and thus they had pledged themselves 
to each other just the evening before Mrs. Day and 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


55 


Harry came to see her. Poor liavenia. Had she known 
the dire influence which this friendship, this fraternal 
arrangement, was to have upon her future life — how it 
was to blast and wither the bright hopes which then 
clustered thick around the morning of her .life, how 
would she have recoiled from it. But the future was 
hidden from her view — no doubt wisely so — and full of 
trust and confldence and hope she went forward to her 
doom. 


56 


ravenia; or, 


CHAPTER Y. 

When Ravenia awoke the next morning, she was sur- 
prised to see her mother already dressed and sitting by 
the window reading the Bible. She glanced at the little 
ormolu clock on the mantel, and to her astonishment 
found that it was nearly eight o’clock. Suddenly start- 
ing up in bed she attracted the attention of her mother, 
who turned and accosted her. 

“ Good morning, my daughter. I am afraid Mrs. 
Shepley is spoiling you by too much indulgence. You 
were not wont before coming here to lie in bed as late as 
this. I think I must tell Mrs. Shepley not to let you 
sleep later than six o’clock.” 

Oh ! mamma,” she replied, ‘‘ I usually rise at or be- 
fore six, but it was late when I went to sleep last night. 
And besides this is Sabbath morning, and everybody lies 
in bed later of a Sabbath morning than any other time.” 

“Well, my dear, make haste and dress and I will 
assist yoUj for breakfast will very soon be ready.” 

By the time her toilet was made the bell rung and 
they descended to the dining room, where they found the 
family already assembled, and partook of a very good 
breakfast, after which it was arranged that Mrs. Day and 
her daughter. Miss Davilla and Harry should walk to 
church together. 

When it was time to start, Ravenia took her mother 
by the arm, saying pleasantly to Harry: 

“ I will be mamma’s escort, while you shall perform 
the same service for Miss Davilla.” 

“ Most certainly, if agreeable to Miss Davilla,” said 
Harry, bowing in the most polite manner to the young 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


57 


lady, thougli not a little vexed at the arrangement, for he 
would much preferred walking with his charming cousin . 

The young lady graciously bowed her assent and they 
set out. But so deeply was Harry annoyed and cha- 
grined by the turn affairs had taken, for he did not 
appreciate Miss Davilla at her true worth, and hence 
failed to enjoy her society as he ought, that it was impos- 
sible for him to conceal it. In fact, as Kavenia saucily 
told him after their return home, he “ acted more like 
a great bear than a well-bred gentleman ” — an accusation 
which he had the grace to acknowledge, but for which he 
offered no explanation or excuse. Ravenia, however, 
persisted in ascribing it to a cause totally at variance 
with the truth, believing that he had fallen in love with 
her teacher, and that his reserve arose from bashfulness, 
and she admonished him to correct the fault. 

‘‘I am sure,” said she, ‘‘ that Miss Davilla likes you, 
and if you will only treat her right who knows but 
she may be my cousin some day ? I know I could not 
have a better.” 

“ She will never be your cousin,” he replied, gravely, 
so let us drop the subject.” 

“Well, it will be your fault if she is not,” replied 
Ravenia, “ but if you wish to drop the subject, so be it,” 
and it was not again alluded to during their visit. But 
still, she could not divest herself of the belief that Harry 
and Miss Davilla were in love with each other, and she 
secretly indulged a hope that at some future time events 
might turn out according to her prediction. 

After dinner, Mr. Shepley called his pupils together, 
and Sabbath school exercises consumed over an hour. 
Mrs. Day was very much interested in these exercises, 
for she was a pious, Christian woman, and anything tend- 
ing to promote the influence of the Gospel of her Lord 
and Master was at all times a subject of deep interest to 
5 


58 


ravenia; or, 


her. William Myers was a prominent participator in 
these exercises, and as she marked the fervent zeal with 
which he entered upon the instruction of his class, and 
heard him, in a short but well delivered address to the 
entire school, enforce with peculiar energy the claims of 
Christ upon our hearts, she felt within herself that 
Ravenia’s vindication of him was the truth, and that she 
had done him grievous injustice. So perfectly was he 
skilled in deceit and hypocrisy. Really he cared no more 
for religion or the Sabbath-school than the veriest scoffer 
upon the face of the earth, but he had a part to play and 
right skillfully he sustained it. 

But it were a vain and useless task to attempt to 
enumerate all the incidents of each day of their visit, 
extending over an entire week, and the effort would be 
^ilike unprofitable and uninteresting to both writer and 
reader. It is sufficient for us to say that Harry Day 
omitted no opportunity during the time of their stay to 
bask in the sunlight of Ravenia’s smile ; he constantly 
sought her society and each day but served to strengthen 
the cord which bound his heart to her’s, and when the 
day of their departure arrived he was as completely en- 
slaved as was ever Grecian or Roman captive of the days 
of yore. But no word had passed his lips intimating to 
her the nature of his feelings toward her. He regarded 
her yet as a mere child, and for this reason he forebore 
to say anything to her upon a subject which he almost 
doubted her ability fully to comprehend. Perhaps it had 
been well for both of them had he at that time manifested 
less reason. The evil designs of William Myers were 
not then fully developed ; he had scarcely begun to exer- 
cise upon her that subtle and poisonous infiuence which 
was subsequently destined to enshroud her fair young 
life in gloom ; her heart and affections were then com- 
paratively free, and might have been won by him, and 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


59 


encased in the armor of his virtuous love, she might 
safely have bid defiance to the wiles and snares which the 
treacherous and false-hearted tutor was preparing for her. 

The time at last came for Mrs. Day and Harry to 
return to their home, and with words of love and kindly 
remembrance they parted from Eavenia. As they stood 
in the hall waiting for the carriage to be driven up to the 
door, Eavenia laid her hand upon his arm. 

You will visit me sometimes, will you not, cousin? 
I shall be so lonely when you and mamma are gone — 
more so, I fear, than if you had not come at all. You 
need not wait for papa and mamma, but come at any 
time. Will you not ? ’’ 

Harry gave the required promise, and at that moment 
the carriage drove up to the door. They took their seats 
and were whirled away to the depot, and in a short time 
Harry and Mrs. Day were rushing away in the direction 
of home with all the speed and power of steam, while 
Eavenia was riding sad and lonely’’ back to the school 
building. 

And what of William Myers during the week of this 
visit ? More familiar with the ways of the world, and 
better educated in the school of passion than Eavenia, he 
had fathomed correctly the nature of Harry’s feelings 
toward her, and he had apprehended serious interference 
from that quarter with the plans he had formed with the 
coolest and most calculating villainy for her ruin. But 
he watched them narrowly, and when he became satisfied 
that no word of love had passed between them he 
breathed more freely, but nevertheless determined to 
delay no longer the commencement of his schemes to 
destroy her peace and happiness. 

The next day was the Sabbath, and as Eavenia re- 
membered the events of the preceding one, and con- 
trasted her happiness then with her sadness and lowness 


60 


ravenia; or, 


of spirits now, she determined she would not go to church. 
Accordingly she pleaded a headache (which she really 
had) and begged Mrs. Shepley to excuse her attendance, 
to which the good lady freely assented, and she remained 
at home. Sometime after the family had gone, she was 
in her own room, when there came a gentle tap at her 
door. She was surprised, for even the servants had gone 
out, and she supposed there was no one in the house but 
herself but she arose and opened the door, and there stood 
William Myers. 

“Why, Mr. Myers,” said she, in tones which revealed 
her surprise at seeing him, “I supposed you were at 
church with the rest of the family.” 

“I beg your pardon for the intrusion. Miss Day,” he 
replied, politely, “ but I knew you did not go to church, 
and as I did not care about going, thought I would bring 
you this book, knowing you to be very fond of reading,” 
handing her as he spoke a handsomely bound volume he 
had brought with him. 

“ Thank you, Mr. Myers. You are very kind. I 
did not feel like going out to-day — was rather low 
spirited — and I have no doubt this will help me very 
much to pass away the time,” she replied, taking the 
book and turning to the title page. “ The Two Lovers,” 
she continued as she read its title, “ is it a good story ? ” 

“I think you will find it interesting as well as in- 
structive,” he replied. “Read it, and then give me your 
opinion of it.” 

“ I will with pleasure.” 

“ I, too, am lonely to-day. Won’t you come down in 
the library and pick out a book for me, little sister ? for 
you know you promised to be my sister. I will read 
anything you may select.” 

Ravenia colored somewhat, and replied, “ I will be 
down in a few moments.” 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


61 


‘ “ Thank you,” said he, and went away. 

He descended to the library and impatiently waited 
her coming. Mr. Shepley had a large and well selected 
library, embracing works of every class, scientific, histor- 
ical, biographical, poetical, and a considerable collection 
of standard works of fiction. Myers was wondering what 
her choice would be — a love story, a volume of poems, 
or what — when there was a tap at the door and she 
entered the room. 

‘‘ Thank you, sister mine, for your kindness in com- 
ing down,” he said. “ Will you have a seat ? ” 

“ Ho, I thank you. You asked me, I believe, to select 
a book for you. Will you accept and read my choice ? ” 

“ Certainly I will.” 

“ Then read this,” said she, handing down a copy of 
the Holy Scriptures. ‘‘ I know of no book in all this 
collection which can be studied with as much interest 
and profit as this.” 

He colored violently, for he thought she intended a 
reproof, but took the book with some muttered expres- 
sion of thankfulness, which, however, found no echo in 
his heart. 

‘‘ And now,” said she, having fulfilled my promise, 
I will return to my own room.” 

He made no efifort to detain her, albeit he was deeply 
chagrined and disappointed. He had invited her into 
the library merely for the purpose of enjoying her 
society, nothing doubting that he should be able to in- 
vent some plan for keeping her there. But her simple 
piety and childish faith in the word of God — her choice 
of that book of all others — had completely upset his cal- 
culations and scattered all his plans, and he was so much 
non-plussed that he knew not what to say or do. As 
soon as she was out of hearing he threw down the book 
with a muttered curse. 


62 


ravenia; or, 


“ Fool that I was,” said he, ‘‘ was anything ever so 
awkwardly done? But L will succeed yet;” and with 
this unholy determination he left the library and sought 
his own room. Throwing himself upon a lounge he lay 
a long time musing upon his discomfiture and devising 
new plans for the future, for so far from being induced 
by this one defeat to abandon his villainous purpose, he 
was but stimulated to renew with more determined 
energy his fiendish designs. What his plans -finally be- 
came need not now be laid before the reader — they will 
be sufficiently developed in the course of our story. 

Time sped away and a vacation approached. Ravenia 
had not been home since coming to the school, and she 
had resolved that she would take advantage of the recess 
to visit that place, dearer to her than any other on earth, 
where dwelt all whom she could call friends. Duly 
advised of her determination, Harry had signified 
his intention of coming to accompany her on her journey, 
and she was now looking each day, with the most anxious 
impatience, for his arrival. 

At last he came, and the heartiness and warnith with 
which he was greeted would doubtless have instilled 
some jealousy into the heart of William Myers had he 
been present at the first meeting of the adopted cousins. 
Certainly it was all that any cousin could have a right to 
require, and yet selfish, exacting Harry was far from be- 
ing satisfied. He did not want a mere cousinly greeting ; 
he would not be satisfied with anything short of a lover’s 
welcome, and her greeting was as far from this as any- 
thing that could well be imagined. There was an entire 
absence of that shyness and embarrassment— that pleas- 
ant little excitement, so diverse from all other, which 
attends the greeting of lovers long separated — no blush- 
ing or fiuttering — but with true sisterly freedom she met, 
embraced and kissed him, and then drawing his arm 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


63 


around her waist, led him away in the direction of her 
room. 

“ You naughty fellow,” said she, with well simu- 
lated indignation, ‘‘how you have kept your promise.” 

“ My promise ? What do you mean ? ” 

“ Oh ! yes. It is very well for you to pretend igno- 
rance and forgetfulness. If you forget a promise made 
to your sweetheart as readily as the^ one made to your 
cousin, I pity her and you. But you shall not escape my 
just wrath by any such shallow pretense as this,” said 
Bavenia, shaking her head menacingly at him. 

“ I have no wish to escape your wrath if I have done 
wrong,” said he, with mock humility, “but will your 
ladyship condescend to inform me of the nature of my 
oidense, that I may perform due penance ? ” 

“ ilow, Harry Hay, you are really provoking. Hid 
you not promise me when you were here’ with mamma 
that you would visit me again before school was out? 
and how have you kept that promise?” said she, re- 
proachfully. 

“ Are you sure I promised to visit you before school 
was out, or did I only promise to visit you without speci- 
fying any time ? and here I am in fulfillment of that 
promise,” responded he, laughing at her pretended in- 
dignation. 

“ Are you not ashamed to try and creep out of it by 
such a subterfuge as this ? ” she cried, merrily. “ Oh ! 
shame, where is thy blush ? ” 

“ But answer my qnestion. Hid I name any time 
at which I would visit you ? ” he persisted. 

“You did not exactly name the day,” she replied, 
more seriously, “ but I asked you to visit me often, and 
you said you would.” 

“ And so I did. Every day I visited you in spirit, 
and every week my white-winged messengers were here 


64 


ravenia; or, 


to assure, you of my love and my constant remembrance, 
and to inquire after your welfare and happiness. Was 
not that enough ? ” 

‘‘ I will admit, cousin mine, that you were very faith- 
ful in writing to me, and suppose I must forgive your 
other derelictions on this account,’’ said she, kindly, 
‘‘ but I really expected one or two visits from you before 
this time.” 

Long time they sat and talked, and when the tea bell 
rung they had hardly finished asking and answering 
questions. They went down, and Harry was kindly 
greeted by every member of the family save Mr. Myers, 
who, looking upon him as a competitor for the favor of 
Ravenia, was hardly more than polite to him — less than 
this he dare not be lest it should injure his suit with her. 
But had he dg^ed give vent to his feelings, very different 
would have been his welcome, for the demon of darkness 
had taken possession of his soul, and he could ill brook 
the presence of any one or anything which threatened to 
cross his path. 

The next morning Harry and Ravenia were in the 
parlor, when Mr. Myers entered. 

“ The carriage is ready, Miss Hay,” he said, “ and if 
you have no objections I will accompany you to the 
depot.” 

‘‘ Certainly, Mr. Myers, we shall be pleased to have 
you. Miss Havilla is going with us, and I am sure she 
will be glad of your company home.” 

At this moment Miss Havilla entered the room and 
said she was ready. 

Then let us set out at once,” said Ravenia, running 
out to the carriage. ‘‘ Cousin, you and Mr. Myers take 
the front seat. Miss Havilla and I do not like to ride 
backward.” 

William Myers bit his lips in angry disappointment. 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


65 


for he had intended to so arrange matters as to secure a 
seat by the side of Ravenia during this ride ; but there 
was no help for it, and he could only submit, secretly 
consoling himself for his disappointment by the reflection 
that if he was disappointed, so, too, was Harry, and by 
securing the seat directly opposite hers. As for Harry, 
he was too noble-minded to indulge in any such belittling 
reflections. Thoroughly disliking Myers, and rating 
him as the unprincipled villain and hypocrite he was, he 
still felt no disposition to treat him otherwise than kindly, 
feeling well assured that Ravenia had too much good 
sense, and was too strongly imbued with the principles of 
morality and virtue to be in any danger from him. 

They had a very pleasant ride, and when they had 
seen Harry and his beautiful cousin comfortably seated, 
and the cars slowly rolling away from the depot, Mr. 
Myers and Miss Davilla entered the carriage and returned 
home. They were both inclined to be quiet, and but 
little conversation took place between them. He was 
thinking of Ravenia, and envying Harry the ride he 
would have with her on the cars, and she was silent from 
choice. 

Harry and Ravenia meantime, were speeding onward 
toward home, and when they reached the depot in Kit- 
taning,they found Dr. Day and his wife with the carriage 
waiting for them. The moment Ravenia alighted from 
the cars she was folded in her mother’s arms. 

“ Dear, dear mamma,” said she, sobbing with hysteri- 
cal joy; “ how glad I am to get home once more, and to 
see you looking so well, and you, too, dear papa; I really 
believe- you have grown younger in the six months that 
I have been away.” 

Albeit, not much used to the melting mood, the good 
old doctor was seen to wipe his eyes in a very suspicious 
manner, as he witnessed the delight of his foster-daugh- 


66 


ravenia; or, 


ter. And at that moment he felt repaid more than a 
thousand fold for all that he had ever done for her. 

As soon as the warmth of their congratulations would 
admit, they all entered the carriage and were driven in 
the direction of the doctor’s mansion, and when they 
came in sight of the well-remembered place, the childish 
delight of Eavenia broke out afresh. 

‘‘ I declare,” said she, ‘‘ if there isn ’t good, dear, old 
Kitty, standing at the gate to welcome us. God bless 
you Kitty,” said she springing out of the carriage into 
the arms of her faithful old friend, the moment the 
vehicle stopped, “you are really looking quite young 
again. You dear creature,” she continued, kissing her 
again and again in the exuberance of her joy, while Kitty 
seemed scarcely less excited than her young mistress. 
And then stately, dignified old Bruno, the Newfoundland, 
who had been her playmate and constant companion be- 
fore she left home, forgetting his wonted gravity and 
extreme sense of propriety, came bounding along to wel- 
come her home and receive his share of her caresses — a 
boon which the little girl was not slow to bestow upon 
him. Indeed everything about the place came in for its 
just proportion of the overfiowing of her heart’s affection, 
and it must be chronicled that in no single instance were 
its treasures wasted on the empty air. For every animate 
object, even down to the canary in his gilded cage, who 
poured forth his loudest and sweetest notes to welcome 
her home, seemed to know and recognize her presence, 
and to vie earnestly with each other in the warmth and 
heartiness of their greeting. 

“Well, Kitty,” said Eavenia, as soon as the warmth 
of welcome would permit, “ how are my favorite fiowers? 
Have you taken good care of them ? ” 

“ Indeed I have, honey. Just come into the garden 
and see,” and the faithful old creature led the way, while 


I 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 67 

liavenia followed, accompanied by Harry, who wanted to 
call her attention to some rare flowers of great beauty 
which he had procured and planted expressly for her. 

When the garden had been sufficiently admired, Harry 
told the faithful old servant to go and prepare some sup- 
per for them, and as they had had no dinner and it was 
now about four o’clock in the afternoon, for he desired 
to be alone with Ravenia. The evident admiration with 
which Myers regarded Ravenia, had excited his jealous 
fears, and he had determined to forego that portion of his 
plans which contemplated maintaining silence on the 
subject of his love for Ravenia until the close of her school 
days, and to bring matters to a crisis at once. Leading 
her, therefore, to a beautiful summer house near the 
center of the garden, he seated himself by her side, and, 
after a few moments of embarrassed silence, said in a 
low but earnest tone : 

“ Have you ever loved any one, Ravenia ? ” 

Ravenia blushed, averted her head, and for some 
seconds did not answer. 

“ Will you not answer me ? ” he asked. 

“Why do you ask me that question, Harry?” she 
said at last. “I do not know what you mean. You 
know that I love papa, and mamma, and you — in short, 
I love all my friends. Is that what you mean ? ” 

“ Ho, Ravenia, it is not what I mean. You are now 
almost sixteen years of age, and you certainly know what 
I mean when I speak of love. Else why that crimson 
blush at the mention of the word ? Ravenia, do you love 
William Myers ? ” 

At the mention of this name, she blushed more 
violently than ever, and attempted to rise from her seat. 

“ OSusin,” she said, “ let us go in the house.” 

“Ho,” said Harry, seizing her hand and detaining 
her by his side, “ you must not go until you give me an 


68 


ravenia; or, 


answer, Kavenia,” he continued, ardently. “ I love you 
better than my own life — I worship you. Without your 
love I shall be supremely miserable. Say, Ravenia, can 
you return my earnest, sincere affection, or do you love 
another ? ’’ 

At this the color receded from her face and left her 
pale as marble. She had never suspected that Harry 
regarded her with any other feeling than that which she 
had for him — the love of a cousin, or rather of brother 
and sister. True, they were no relation to each other, 
save by adoption, but they had been, as it were, reared 
together, and the thought of a possibility of any other or 
different love had never entered her mind. At length 
she spoke, but without looking in his face. 

‘‘ Harry, as a cousin, as a brother, I love you — no 
more.’’ 

‘‘Answer me one question farther. Do you love 
another ? ” 

“ Ho, Harry. I do not. You know I am too young 
to think of love.” 

“ You are too young to wed, but you are not too 
young to love,” he replied. “ I can afford to wait for 
your love. I ask you to be my wife, but not now. I 
will wait until your days of schooling are past, or even 
longer, if you will only promise to love me and be mine. 
Say, will you promise ? ” he asked in an earnest, plead- 
ing tone, bending forward and gazing imploringly in her 
colorless face. 

“ Ho, Harry, I cannot promise you anything now. I 
am too young and inexperienced to know my own heart. 
One thing I do know — you are worthy a much better 
wife than I could ever be; are worthy the undivided 
affection of any pure, true-hearted woman — but I love 
you only as a brother. I do not know that I love any 
-one with any other or warmer affection than I have for 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


69 


you, but this is all I can give you. And now,” said she, 
withdrawing her hand and rising to her feet, “ let me go 
to my own room.” 

She wished to regain her composure before meeting 
her parents at the tea table, for they must not suspect 
anything. He made no farther eflbrt to detain her, for 
he felt that it were worse than useless, but as soon as she 
was out of sight he rose and hastened to his own room. 


70 


ravenia; or, 


CHAPTER YL 

Upon leaving the summer house Ravenia hastened at 
once to her room where she threw herself on the bed and 
lay for sometime in a paroxysm of tears. It was the first 
time she had been addressed in the language of afiTection, 
and for a time it almost seemed to her excited and 
untaught imagination as though an insult had been oflered 
to her, and yet she fully realized that Harry’s intentions 
and motives toward herself had been none but the most 
noble and honorable, and soon that pity which is said to 
be akin to love,” filled her heart as she remembered his 
assurances that without her he would be supremely mis- 
erable, and she half repented that she had repulsed his 
profiered afiections, and yet, in her inmost heart she felt 
^ that she could not conscientiously speak words of encour- 
agement to him, for notwithstanding her asseveration to 
the contrary, and examination of her heart, in the light of 
the fierce fire of Harry’s love, had revealed to her the 
fact that the feeling with which she regarded William 
Myers was not, as she had heretofore considered it, mere 
sympathy for him in his lonely lot. The events of the 
last few moments had transformed her from sunny girl- 
hood into the dignity and maturity of womanhood, and 
she realized with maiden modesty and shame the fact that 
she had given her heart to one who had never asked its 
bestowal. 

Sometime she lay thus tormented with conflicting 
emotions, but, finally, remembering that she should soon 
have to meet the family at the tea table, she rose and pro- 
ceeded to remove from her countenance, so far as she was 
able, the traces of the violent emotions through which she 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


71 


had passed. In this she was but partially successful. The 
cold water removed from her eyes all traces of recent tears, 
but no amount of washing would restore to her pallid 
cheeks their wonted bloom, and when the bell finally 
rang and she descended to the dining room, her counten- 
ance presented almost the ghastly pallor of a corpse. 

Hot so with Harry. Though deeply mortified and 
disappointed at the result of the interview from which he 
had hoped so much, he still had sufficient manhood 
and fortitude to conceal it, and when after having per- 
formed his ablutions, he came to the tea table, no one 
would have suspected from his appearance and manners 
that he was a recently rejected lover; but calmly as he 
took his refusal he was by no means disposed to accept 
it as final, and while awaiting the tea bell, he had deter- 
mined upon a plan of operation which he proceeded at 
once to carry into efifect, not only for the purpose of 
advancing his interest with Havenia, but also to destroy, 
as far as lay in his power, the influence which he had the 
best of reason to believe William Myers had obtained 
over her ; and in this, although he reasonably supposed he 
would be advancing his own cause, he was not entirely 
selfish. He had observed that gentleman very closely, 
and he had become satisfied that he was a reckless, 
unprincipled man, and very correctly reasoned that any 
influence he might exercise over Havenia would be but evil 
to her ; and he was resolved, whether he could win her 
or not, to save her from the misery which he believed 
would attend her life if united with so despicable a man 
as he believed Myers to be. 

Accordingly he took an early opportunity to ask 
Kitty to meet him in the summer house where his unfor- 
tunate declaration of love had been made, as soon as she 
could do so after dark, telling her, by way of inducement 
to comply with his request, that he had something to say 


72 


ravenia; or, 


to her of Eavenia. Good, honest, old Kitty, whose love 
for Harry was second only to her devotion to Eavenia, 
readily promised him the desired interview, and named 
the hour at which she would meet him in the arbor. 

Dr. Day was the first to notice, at the tea table, the 
pallor of Eavenia^s countenance, and his paternal and 
professional fears were at once aroused, and in a voice 
of tender earnestness he inquired : 

“ My dear daughter, what ails you ? Are you sick ? ’’ 

‘‘ Oh ! no, dear papa,” replied Eavenia, “ I am not 
sick, but I have a slight headache and feel somewhat 
faint.” 

“ What can I do for you, my love ? ” he inquired. 

“ Kothing, I thank you,” said she ; ‘‘ I shall be better 
as soon as I have drank a cup of tea.” 

Mrs. Day expressed her mother’s fears that the ride 
had been too much for her little darling, but Eavenia so 
earnestly assured them that it was mere fatigue, which 
would disappear with refreshment and rest, that they 
finally desisted from saying anything on the subject, and 
allowed her to finish her tea in silence, after which she 
retired to her own room and again threw herself upon 
the couch where she indulged in another fit of violent 
and passionate weeping. And yet, had any one asked 
her why she wept thus, it would have been very difficult 
for her to have answered the question satisfactorily to 
herself. It was not entirely pity for Harry’s rejected 
suit ; it was not mortification at the discovery that she 
loved one by whom she had no assurance that her love 
was returned ; it was not sorrow for anything past, or 
apprehension for the future, nor, perhaps, was it a com- 
bination of any or all these. 

There are times when people of sensitive, highly 
refined souls find themselves with feelings so much exer- 
cised and excited by some cause, the real nature of which 


THE OUTCAST KEDEEMED. 


73 


they are unable to comprehend or explain, that nothing 
but a good, hearty cry will relieve or restore them to any 
degree of composure. To such persons at such times, 
tears are the safety-valve, relieving the pressure upon the 
overcharged heart, which would otherwise burst with 
the violence of its emotion. This was just the situation 
of Eavenia at this time — her feelings were fearfully 
excited, and her heart was full — her emotion must have 
vent or it would overwhelm her. And therefore she 
wept — wept just because she felt like it, and because it 
did her good to weep. And her weeping calmed and 
soothed her, and when Mrs. Day, half an hour later, sought 
her room, impelled thither by her maternal anxiety, she 
found Eavenia comparatively calm, and the appearances 
which had excited so much uneasiness at tea time almost 
entirely gone. 

Turn we for a short time to Harry and old aunt Kitty. 
As soon as she had finished her work, and the friendly 
shades of night had fallen sufficiently to vail her move- 
ments, Kitty stole out of the house and hastened unob- 
served to the summer-house, where she found Harry 
awaiting her with some impatience. 

“Well,’’ said she, as soon as she entered the arbor^ 
“ what do you want with me. Master Harry ? ” 

“ I want to talk to you about Eavenia.” 

“ W hat do you want to say about her ? I heard all 
that you and she talked about this afternoon. Was that 
what you wanted to talk to me about ? ” 

“It was. But how came you to hear our conversa- 
tion ? ” said Harry, with no little surprise manifested in 
his tone. “ Kitty, have you been playing the eaves- 
dropper ? ” 

“Ko, Master Harry,” she replied, “but Mrs. Day 
sent me to call Eavenia into the house because she 
wanted to see her about something. I came out, but 
6 


74 


eavenia; or. 


could not find her, and then I went to the summer-house, 
and just as I came up I heard you say, ‘Have you ever 
loved any one, Eavenia ? ’ and then I did not want to in- 
terrupt you, so I just waited until Eavenia started to the 
house, when I went in by the kitchen door. Pardon me. 
Master Harry, for having done so, but really I did not 
come out here to listen.’’ 

“ Hever mind about it, Kitty. Only you must not 
say anything about it to any one,” he replied, though he 
was not a little mortified to find that the drama which 
had been intended to be only known to Eavenia and 
himself had really been enacted for the benefit of a large 
audience. 

“You may depend that I never will.” 

“ Thank you, Kitty ; and now I will tell you what I 
want. You must go to Huntingdon when Miss Eavenia 
returns, and stay with her. If you heard our conversa- 
tion this afternoon you know something about William 
Myers. He is a teacher in the school, and I think a bad 
man, and I want you to guard Eavenia against his 
infiuence.” 

“ But how can it be done ? ” said Kitty. “ I am will- 
ing to do anything to serve you and her, but I do not 
know how.” 

“ I will tell you. You must first get my aunt’s con- 
sent to go, by pretending that you love Eavenia so much 
you cannot bear to he separated from her. Then we 
must get you a position as chambermaid, or something 
of the kind, there at the school, and then you can watch 
her. Will you do it ? I will pay you well for it if you 
will go.” 

“ I will go,” replied Kitty, “ but not for pay. I will 
go because I love you and Eavenia, and don’t want to 
see you both made miserable by the scheming of that 
villain Myers.” 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


75 


“ Well, make your arrangements with Aunt Day and 
I will write to Mrs. Shepley about your coming, and I 
have no doubt the whole matter can be arranged to our 
entire satisfaction. And as I said before, I will pay you 
well for your services. Your pay shall be more than 
you would earn here.’’ 

“ I tell you. Master Harry,” replied Kitty, with honest 
energy, ‘‘I will not go for pay, but only because I love 
you and Eavenia, and want to see you both happy. 
What do I care for the money ? I’ve no soul in the world 
that I care anything for — nobody but just myself, and so I 
can live the few years that I have yet to stay on earth ; 
that is all I need to care for. I shall be well enough 
paid if I can only do my little master and mistress some 
good. So don’t say anything more about the pay unless 
you want to hurt old Kitty’s feelings.” 

“Well, I won’t say anything more about it,” replied 
Harry, his heart touched by the honest devotion of the 
old servant, “ only you go and take good care of your 
little mistress. And now you had better go in the house 
and say nothing to any one, and especially to Eavenia, 
about this conversation, or about the other one you over- 
heard here.” 

“ Hever fear. Master Harry. You can trust Kitty for 
that. I only want to live to see you and Eavenia mar- 
ried and happy. And now good night,” said she, taking 
his hand and kissing it with earnest affection, and then 
gliding out of the arbor in the direction of the house. 

“ Good night, Kitty. God bless you,” he replied, 
with heartfelt earnestness, and then, as she vanished in 
the darkness, he added soliloquisingly, “ how much less 
of misery, sin and unhappiness would exist in the world, 
if all mankind had but one half the truth, fidelity, purity, 
and earnest, unselfish devotion to the good of others 
which dwells in thy spirit.” 


76 


ravenia; or, 


But alas ! for the human race. Instead of the faith- 
fulness and affection of old Kitty being the moving 
principle which actuates the mass of mankind in their 
intercourse with their fellows, we too frequently see its 
very opposite pervading the human breast. Some philos- 
opher, who has been pronounced cynical, has said that 
“ all mankind are natural enemies,” and cheerless as is 
the doctrine, unflattering to the species as its announce- 
ment seems, we are by no means sure that it is as desti- 
tute of foundation in truth as is generally claimed. Take, 
for example, the intercourse of men in commercial pur- 
suits. Commerce has been deflned to be the interchange 
of commodities for mutual beneflt. But who believes 
that the merchant who sells his goods, the farmer who 
markets his grain, the lawyer who delivers his opinion of 
a case presented to him, the physician who writes out 
his prescription ; — are any of them actuated by the desire 
of being beneficial to their customers? Are they not, 
on the contrary, each actuated solely by the desire to 
benefit themselves, and, to a certain extent, at the ex- 
pense of those with whom they deal? Does not the 
merchant rejoice with heartfelt glee when a rise in the 
wholesale market enables him to raise the price of the 
goods with which his shelves are filled, and thus accu- 
mulate large gains on his purchRses, which must be paid 
from the pockets of his customers? Will it not rejoice 
the very heart of the farmer, when he brings his load of 
wheat to the market, to see two rival buyers bidding 
against each other for his grain, until, their angry spirit 
being aroused, he disposes of his commodity for four or 
five cents per bushel more than it is really worth ? Does 
not the lawyer chuckle within himself when retained by 
some wealthy and obstinate client in a cause in which 
large fees and long bills of costs loom up before his 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


77 


mind’s eye ? And so on throughout the whole category 
of classes and employments of the sons and daughters of 
Adam. We all alike rejoice when the demands or 
necessities of our neighbors enable us to dispose of our 
wares or our knowledge at enormous prices, not because 
the purchasers are thereby benefitted, hut because our 
purses are well lined. This is but a single illustration of 
the principle we are considering. Others may be seen 
daily in the envy, the petty jealousy of preferment, the 
backbiting, the scandal, the unjust suspicions, the sneers 
and innuendoes which pervade the atmosphere of every 
community. It finds expression in the trite and true say- 
ing that “ when a man once starts down hill every one 
gives him a kick,” and is illustrated by the fact that when 
a poor wretch-j-more especially a female — has once made 
a false step, every hand, instead of being extended to 
reclaim the wanderer, is put forth to push him or her 
bodily down the precipice upon the brink of which he 
or she has stumbled. 

Did we say every hand ? Let us recall the expression. 
Let us not, because of the injustice of the generality of 
mankind, be unjust to those noble spirits who, like good 
old Kitty, are willing to sacrifice their own comforts and 
conveniences to the mere desire of being serviceable to 
their fellow creatures ; or to those other noble mission- 
aries of fallen humanity — alas ! too rare — who will appear 
in the course of this story, and who falter not in their 
visitations of the vilest purlieus of sin and shame, well 
satisfied if their efibrts but result in redeeming one poor 
wretch from the degradation in which they are wallow- 
ing. To such noble souls as these, even though we could 
speak with the tongue of angels or write with the pen of 
inspiration, any words of ours would fail to render them 
the full meed of their merited commendation. That they 


78 


ravenia; or, 


can only receive at the last day when the Father himself 
shall say unto them, “ Come ye blessed.’^ But to return 
to our narrative. 

Events seemed for a time to favor Harry’s plans for 
compassing the entire safety of her upon whom he had 
fixed his affections, and for guarding her against the sup- 
posed machinations of William Myers. Mrs. Day readily 
gave her consent that Kitty should accompany Ravenia 
upon her return to school, and Mrs. Shepley expressed 
herself very much pleased at the opportunity thus pre- 
sented of supplying the place of one of her chambermaids 
who had just married and left her. It was speedily 
arranged that Kitty should accompany “ her little mis- 
tress,” as she called her, to Huntingdon when she 
returned to school, and should be assigned to the care of 
the floor upon which Ravenia’s room was situated. Till 
then she would not be very much needed, as the boarders 
were most of them at home during the vacation, and but 
very few of the rooms, consequently, occupied. 

Ravenia was quite delighted when she learned that 
she was to have the companionship of her faithful old 
Kitty upon her return to Huntingdon. Of course she 
did not understand that her principal errand there was to 
watch her — they would not thus intimate that they feared 
any evil befalling her, nor indeed did any one but Harry 
and Kitty — but Mrs. Day told her daughter that Kitty 
was very anxious to be near her; that she (Mrs. Day) 
could very well spare her, and as Mrs. Shepley wanted 
her, she had consented to let her go. Aside from her 
delight at having some one present to remind her con- 
stantly of home, Ravenia felt some distrust of herself; 
she was oppressed by some presentiment of impending 
evil, of the nature of which or from whence it was to 
come, however, she had not the least idea ; she had the 
utmost confidence in Kitty’s sterling judgment and plain, 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


79 


practical common sense, and she knew that in any 
emergency she could rely with the most unwavering con- 
fidence upon her earnest and affectionate devotion, and 
she rejoiced at the proximity of such a friend. 


80 


ravenia; or. 


CHAPTER VII. 

Restless time, who stays not his rapid flight for young 
or old, joy or sorrow,merriment or lamentation, and whose 
dominion extends over all things of an earthly nature, 
animate or inanimate, rolled the weeks into eternity; and 
at last arrived the day when Ravenia was once more to 
leave her home and take up her abode with Mrs. Shepley. 
As the day came nearer and nearer, she became more and 
more depressed in spirit ; but if she had been asked why, 
it would have been impossible for her to have answered 
the question. The dim foreshadowing of some dire evil, 
to which allusion has already been made, was ever pres- 
ent with her, poisoning every moment and over-eloud- 
ing her every joy, and at times she almost resolved that 
she would not return to school or go out from beneath the 
sheltering segis of her father’s roof and her mother’s love. 
The more she chided herself for what she termed her 
childish weakness, and attributed it all to her natural sor- 
row at leaving a home which had been so pleasant to 
her and where had been spent the only hours of true 
happiness she had ever known. Well had it been for her 
had she heeded the silent admonition of her guardian 
angel, which whispered her to remain with those who 
were able and willing to shelter- her from all danger. 

But the day at last arrived and the carriage was at the 
door ; Kitty was the first to enter it, and was quickly 
followed by Ravenia, Mrs. and Dr. Day, while Harry 

mounted the box beside the driver, for he was to accom- 

* ^ 

pany her on the journey, and after spending a few days with 
her at Huntingdon, to go on to Philadelphia, transact 
some business for his uncle and then return to his home. 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


81 


The great family carriage rolled away to the depot, adieux 
were spoken and Eavenia, accompanied by Harry and 
Kitty, was on her way to Huntingdon, where they arrived 
after a very pleasant journey and were warmly welcomed 
by Mr. and Mrs. Shepley. Myers, too, professed to join in 
the welcome, but it was with his lips only, for he hated 
Harry with all the intensity of his vicious and unprinci- 
pled nature ; and he had learned from Mrs. Shepley the 
position which Kitty was to occupy, and justly regarded 
her as an obstacle in the way of the fulfillment of his 
base designs. But for the, present it was, of course, nec- 
essary for him to control the feeling which rankled in 
his breast, and hence he met them with a smiling brow, 
while within raged nought but the demoniac fires of 
passion and hate. 

Kitty was at once installed in her position, and while 
she remained there, Myers sought in vain for some oppor- 
tunity to advance his infamous ends. She was faithful 
to her instruction ; Eavenia quietly and willingly, nay, 
gladly submitted to her surveillance, for she had the most 
unbounded confidence in the purity of her intentions 
and the correctness of her judgment, and she steadily 
refused to afiPord him any private interview, however brief 
in which he might press his suit. Hot that he directly 
sought such interview — he very well understood that any 
attempt of that kind while Kitty remained there would 
be fraught with disaster — but the thousand and one little 
artifices to which he resorted to entrap her into such inter- 
view, only failed to accomplish anything. He could 
therefore do nothing but simply bide his time and trust 
fate to remove this apparently insurmountable obstacle. 

And he had not long to wait. Kitty had been there % 
but a few weeks when she was prostrated by a fearful 
fever — almost the first sickness of her life — which 
rendered her removal from the school a matter of the 


82 


ravenia; or, 


most absolute necessity. Ravenia wept bitterly at part- 
ing with her old and faithful friend and servant, but there 
was no remedy and she had to go, and Myers had suffi- 
cient address to get her place filled by a creature of his, who 
was willing to engage in anything however base or sinful, 
so she was but paid for her nefarious services. As soon 
as she was installed in her new position, Myers called 
her one day into his room, which was on the same fioor 
with Ravenia’s, and there held a long consultation, the 
nature of which will sufficiently appear in the progress 
of our story. Suffice it to say that when she left his 
room at its close she was pledged to do anything in her 
power to aid him, and to fully obey his instructions in 
every particular. 

Her first step was to endeavor to ingratiate herself 
into Ravenia’s good will, and to assume as far as she was 
able the same position in her confidence which Kitty had 
sustained before her sickness and return home ; and this 
was soon accomplished to a certain extent. The depress- 
ion of spirits under which Ravenia was laboring, intensi- 
fied as it was by the loss of her faithful Kitty ; her igno- 
rance of the ways of the world and the distinction between 
her position and that of the servant, rendered her an easy 
prey to the wily and deceitful woman, who, aided by a 
certain degree of intelligence, and an insinuating, pleas- 
ant address, sought to entrap her, and Kitty had been away 
but barely two weeks when Ravenia came to pursuade 
herself that she was really benefited by the change ; for 
while Mary, the new girl, seemed just as much devoted 
to her as Kitty was, she was nearer her own age and hence 
more fully and readily comprehended her feelings, while 
she certainly possessed more general intelligence than 
did her old friend. Poor child ! could she but have 
penetrated beneath that glittering exterior, and beheld 
the loathsome corruption festering within her heart, how 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


8a 


would she have shrunk from her contaminating presence ; 
but no gift of second sight was hers and blindly she went 
forward to her doom. 

by ^a-y the unprincipled chambermaid, who pur- 
sued her hideous work with an energy and address worthy 
a better cause, increased and strengthend her influence 
over the lonely orphan. She possessed one of those strong^ 
magnetic natures which seem able to influence and con- 
trol every one with whom they come in contact ; and 
Ravenia, with her lonely, dependent spirit — a spirit which, 
like the vine that twines itself about the rugged oak, 
beautifying and adorning its rough exterior and hiding 
its unsightly covering with a vesture of living green, 
ever required the support of some sterner material than 
that of which her character was composed — soon came 
to lean upon her for advice in every matter of importance 
occurring in the simple history of her life. This was 
precisely what she was working for, and when this point 
was reached, when Ravenia had come to regard her as ab- 
solutely essential to her happiness, she lost no time in 
acquainting Myers with the fact, and with a flendish glee, 
such as the arch-fiend of darkness himself may be sup- 
posed to feel at the contemplation of an immortal soul 
forever lost, she told him how completely Ravenia was 
within the fatal circle of her influence and her power. 
In like spirit with her own, he complimented her warmly 
upon her influence, dexterity and success, and paying 
her a part of the stipulated price of the orphan’s ruin, 
he gave her further directions for her conduct in the 
diabolical plot. 

His next step was to obtain a personal interview with 
Ravenia, but this was no easy matter. Her natural 
modesty and retiring disposition led her to avoid, not 
only him, but intimate association with all young men 
and though he met her, of course, in the school room, it 


84 


kavenia; or, 


was long before be could obtain an opportunity to address 
her in the manner he desired. One evening when he 
was in his room, musing upon and cursing the ill luck 
which had ever attended his efforts in that direction, he 
was aroused by Mary’s well known rap at his door. 
Hastily entering, she said : 

‘‘How is your time. She is alone in the arbor in the 
garden.” 

“Yes,” growled he, sullenly, “ and when I get there 
she will be gone. I have tried that often enough, and 

me if I haven’t half a mind to give up the chase 

altogether. There are plenty of others just as good as 
she who can be won with half the trouble.” 

“ Oh ! fie, William Myers,” said the base and un- 
principled woman, “ will you give her up after all the 
trouble and expense you have been at, just when she is 
within your reach ? I am ashamed of you. The fruit is 
within your reach. All you have to do is to reach out 
your hand and pluck it, and now you talk of abandoning 
the chase.” 

“But what makes you think I will find her there at 
this time any more than the dozen other times I have 
tried the same thing? ” he asked, and then added, “ I do 
not think you have done your work very well in this 
oase.” 

“ She and I went into the arbor and sat down, and 
then she asked me to come and fetch a volume of poems 
and read to her, saying she would stay until I came 
back/’ replied the woman, without seeming to notice his 
last remark, “and I know if you go right out you will 
find her there.” 

It may seem almost incredible that any woman should 
be sunk so low as thus deliberately to plot against the 
peace and happiness of one of her own sex, but the fear- 
ful records of the crim e and shame of our large cities 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


85 


prove conclusively that when a woman has once em- 
barked in a career of degradation, nothing affords her 
more delight than to see others brought to the same de- 
based level with herself, and serves to illustrate the fact 
that there is no being so degraded and maliciously 
wicked as fallen woman. Even as woman, when in her 
pristine state of purity, excels man in all of character 
that is lovable and lovely, discriminating with nicest 
touch between the pure and the impure, and turning 
with shuddering horror and loathing from the latter, so,, 
when she has once been corrupted, she equally excels him 
in all that is hateful and -devilish, and Satan has no more 
active or efficient agent in compassing the destruction 
of the human race than she then becomes. ) 

Myers waited to hear no more. Seizing his hat he 
rushed out, only telling his emissary that if she had de- 
ceived him she should bitterly rue it — a threat to which 
she listened with a contemptuous toss of the head — and 
hastily sought the garden. Approaching silently the 
little arbor, to his intense delight, he saw Ravenia sitting 
within, all unconscious of his approach. Walking for- 
ward he entered the arbor, and then gave a little start as 
of surprise at finding her there, while upon her part the 
surprise at his appearance was genuine. She rose and 
would have fied, but he so courteously begged pardon 
for his intrusion, assuring her that he had no thought of 
finding her there, and begged her to remain, that she 
resumed her seat, nothing doubting that her faithless 
chambermaid would soon return. 

He seated himself by her side and resumed the con- 
versation by remaking : 

“ I have observed for some time, Miss Hay, that you 
seem depressed in spirits. May I inquire the cause, and 
if possible endeavor to remove it ? ’’ 

‘‘ It is not worth while, Mr. Myers,^’ she replied, “ and. 


86 


kavenia; or, 


indeed I hardly know myself the cause of my being so 
down-hearted. I^presume it is, to a considerable extent, 
loneliness at my separation from home and friends.’’ 

“ I think, if I may venture an opinion, that you isolate 
yourself too much. The other young ladies of the school 
indulge in rides, walks, boating parties, and the like, 
while you are hardly ever seen outside the grounds, or 
without a book in your hand. If you would mingle more 
in society, and study or read less, I think your despon- 
dency would all disappear,” he said, kindly, and with 
such apparent interest in her as to touch her feelings at 
once. 

“You are very kind,” she replied, “but I really have 
not the least desire to mingle in society as you propose. 
Besides, my parents sent me here to study, and surely 
my teacher,” said she, with an attempt at playfulness, 
“ is not the one to advise a neglect of that duty.” 

“ By no means, Miss Day,” he replied. “ I would not 
advise you to neglect any duty, but there may be such a 
thing as going too far even in a right direction. Yow it 
is eminently proper to read and study, but one may do 
too much even of that. By the way,” he continued, 
changing the subject, “have you read the book I gave 
you ? ” 

“ I have only sketched it through,” she replied, with 
some hesitation in her manner, for she did not really 
like the character of the book, “ but I very seldom read 
novels. But I sent it to your room before I went home 
at vacation. Did you not receive it ? ” 

“Yes; but I wished to inquire how* you liked it? ” 

“ I liked it just tolerably well,” she replied, with still 
more embarrassment. “ But let us return to the house,” 
said she, rising to her feet. 

“ Ho, Eavenia,” said he, taking her hand and detain- 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


87 


ing her, “ do not go, but sit down a moment longer. I 
have something to say to you.” 

At his request she resumed her seat, and he continued: 

“ Eavenia, I love you better than my own life, and 
have loved you from the time I first saw you. And, par- 
don my presumption,” he said, passing his arm around 
her waist, “ but I have sometimes dared to hope that I 
was not entirely indifierent to you. Say, Eavenia, do 
you, can you love me ? Will you be my wife ? Only say 
that you will, and I promise that nothing in my power 
shall be left undone to render you perfectly happy all 
through life. Only speak to me and say it shall be as I 
wish. Will you not, my love ? ” 

But Eavenia could not answer. She had long loved 
him in the inmost recesses of her heart, and now she was 
too much overwhelmed with joyous emotion to make any 
response to his earnest pleadings. But she did not with- 
draw her hand or seek to rise from her seat — she only 
nestled closer to his side, while her fair head drooped 
upon his shoulder and her dark ringlets fell over and 
concealed the blush with which maiden modesty over- 
spread her face. 

“ Eavenia, am I answered ? ” he continued, clasping 
her still more closely to his side. “I want you to speak 
to me, dearest. Just one little word to say that you will 
make me happy. It is said that silence gives consent, 
but I want you to say that you love me. Is it so, 
dearest ? ” 

“ Yes,” she whispered, without raising her head from 
its resting place on his shoulder, her whole frame quiver- 
ing with eager delight, while her blushes and her emotion 
grew so intense as to be absolutely painful. 

“ And you will be mine ? ” he eagerly asked. 

“ Forever.” 

At the low whispered reply he clasped her in both his 


88 


ravenia; or, 


arms and strained her with passionate violence to his 
bosom, while he showered kisses in profusion upon her 
lipg — embraces and caresses which she was far from 
rejecting or refusing. Poor child ! she could not read 
what was passing in that black heart of his, and she 
vainly fancied his love was as pure and unselfish as her 
own. 

“ God bless you for that promise,” he said. “ See, the 
moon is rising. She shall he witness to our pledges, and 
so long as she rolls her nightly rounds, and in due season 
sheds her light upon the earth, so long shall our love 
endure. And as, though at times obscured by clouds 
and darkness, she ever returns with her gentle beams to 
gladden and beautify the earth, so shall we, though at 
times perchance separated for a season by some cruel 
fate, ever return to each other with joy and gladness in 
our souls.” 

Eavenia could not reply. Her heart was too full, but 
in a silent ecstasy of joy she lay motionless in his arms, 
truly fearing that the whole scene was a delusive dream 
from which she should all too soon awaken. While she 
lay thus entranced on his bosom they were startled by a 
footstep upon the gravel walk, and the next instant 
Mary entered the arbor into which the moon was now 
brightly shining. Although she had followed Myers to 
the garden and had witnessed the whole scene, she started 
with well counterfeited surprise and astonishment at 
what she saw before her. Eavenia recovered her self- 
possession in an instant and releasing herself from the 
ardent embrace of Myers, she sat by his side and said : 

“ Mary, you are astonished, but you need not be. 
She is a good and true friend of mine,” she continued, 
turning to Myers and speaking of Mary, “ and we need 
not fear to tell her all, Mr. Myers,” she continued, again 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


89 


addressing the treacherous servant girl, “ has just asked 
me to be his wife, and I have agreed to do so.’’ 

“ I am so glad dear Ravenia, for your sake, for I know 
you will he happy with him,” replied she with feigned 
joy, kissing her heartily as she spoke, ‘‘ but what will 
your parents say to this? For I judge they have 
intended you and Harry for each other.” 

In explanation of this last remark the reader must 
understand that Eavenia had made a confident of the 
chambermaid and had imparted to her not only the rela- 
tionship she sustained to Dr. and Mrs. Day, but also the 
scene which had transpired between herself and Harry 
in the arbor at home, the result of which had been so dis- 
similar to the one just enacted there. 

‘‘ I do not think they will refuse their consent to our 
union when they know that my happiness depends 
upon it,” she replied with tender confidence. “They love 
me dearly, and I am sure will not refuse me. I shall 
write to them about it this very night.” 

“ I do not think you had better do so,” said Myers, 
who saw in this the defeat of all his devilish aims. “ You 
know they do not like me, especially your mother, and I 
fear if you write them about our engagement, they will 
come at once and take you home. Rather let us first 
marry and then they will not withhold their blessing and 
forgiveness.” 

“ Ho, William,” replied Ravenia, earnestly, “ I can- 
not do that. Much as I love you I cannot consent to 
marry you without their knowledge and their blessing. 
Hever fear their refusal. They have never refused me 
anything, and I am sure they will not now in a matter 
of so much importance as this.” 

“ Ravenia is right,” said Mary, giving Myers, unob- 
served by her, a most expressive glance, “ happiness 
could never attend a union unblessed by parental sanctioi 


7 



90 


ravenia; or, 


Let us go to tlie house, and do you, Eavenia, write them 
this very night and I will carry the letter to the post-office, 
and in three or four days at the farthest you will have 
their hearty blessing.’’ 

“ Being in a minority, I suppose I shall have to sub- 
mit,” said Myers, in a pleasant tone, and rising, they pro- 
ceeded to the house where, with an affectionate kiss he 
bid Eavenia good night, and went to his own room, while 
the girls,turning in an opposite direction,were soon locked 
within the precincts of Eavenia’s chamber. 

Eavenia threw herself into the arms of her friend, 
sobbing with joy, and exclaimed : 

“ Oh ! Mary, I am so happy, and yet it seems almost 
like a dream, and I am afraid I shall awake all too soon. 
Tell me, is it really true, or am I asleep and dreaming ?” 

“ITo, indeed, my dear Eavenia,” replied the wiley 
and deceitful girl, “you are wide awake, and are the 
happy betrothed of one of the noblest men in the world, 
I could almost find it in my heart to envy you your fu- 
ture happiness, but that I love you too well.” 

“ Be assured, my dear friend,” replied Eavenia, ten- 
derly,” that in my happiness I shall never forget her who 
has been such a friend to me in my loneliness. You shall 
live with us until you marry some one worthy your noble 
and generous nature, and then we will live near you and 
witness your happiness.” 

“You are too kind,” replied she; “ but now go and 
write your letter, and I will take it to the office, for it is 
getting late.” 

Eavenia seated herself at the table, but her brain was 
in such a whirl of excitement that she could hardly write. 
Several letters were consumed and destroyed before she 
got one to suit her, but at last she succeeded in finishing 
one which she thought would do, and handing it to Mary, 
kissed her and bade her an affectionate good night, and 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


91 


then, as soon as the girl had left the room she undressed 
and sought her couch. ^ 


But it was long ere she could sleep. Her whole brain 
was in a fever of excitement, and for hours she lay and 
tossed from side to side, musing upon the events of the 
evening. A few hours before she was but a lonely and 
desponding school girl, far away from home and friends; 
now she was suddenly developed into a woman, and the 
betrothed of her heart’s choice, who was she doubted not, 
quietly sleeping under the same roof with h6r. Alas ! how 
was she mistaken. At that moment her betrothed, in- 
stead of being locked in the arms of sweet, refreshing 
slumber, was engaged in perfecting a scheme to destroy 
all her future happiness. 

At length she slept, and dreaming that she was walk- 
ing along a path which led through a beautiful mead span- 
gled with every variety and hue of the most beautiful 
flowers. The sun shone brightly while a pleasant zephyr, 
laden with the perfumes of the immense flower bed 
around her, fanned her brow and imparted a delicious 
coolness to the atmosphere. The air was vocal with the 
warbling of birds singing their sweetest notes, and every- 
thing lent its aid to gladden and beautify the scene. Dis- 
covering a cluster of flowers of rarer beauty and fragrance 
than any other around her, she reached her hand to pluck 
it, when suddenly a hissing serpent started from their 
midst and struck his fangs deep into her arm, and with 
a loud cry of terror she awoke. Was it a premonition 
of impending fate ? 


92 


ravenia; or, 


CHAPTEE VIII. 

As soon as the faithless Mary had received the letter 
from the hand of Eavenia, she started out, as Eavenia 
supposed, to deposit it in the postoffice, but instead of 
doing so, she sought at once the room of William Myers, 
whom she found impatiently awaiting her. 

‘‘Well,’’ said he, in a querulous tone, as soon as she 
came in, “ what did you want to oppose me for ? I in- 
tended to marry her without her parents’ knowledge, for 
of course as soon as they learn anything about it, the fat 
will be all in the fire.” 

“ You intended to marry her, did you ? ” said the 
woman, sneeringly. “ The more fool you, that’s all I’ve 
got to say. A pretty wife she’ll make, with her baby, 
spoilt child sort of ways.” 

“ Oh ! come, Mary,” said he, yawning, “ don’t let us 
have a scene. You know very well what I mean, and 
there is no use getting your back up about the matter.” 

“How you talk sensibly,” said the girl, somewhat 
mollified. “But I thought from the tone in which you 
spoke that you had allowed this girl, with her pretty face, 
to make a fool of you, and it naturally made me a little 
angry.” 

“Ha! ha! Is that all? You are not a bit jealous 
now, I suppose,” said he, chucking her familiarly under 
the chin. 

“ Jealous ! no. Why should I be jealous ? Don’t be 
a fool if you can help it,” said the woman, spitefully. 
“ This is a simple matter of business between us, and it 
matters not a whit to me whether you succeed or not, so 
I only earn and receive the compensation you promised 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


93 


me. And now have done with your nonsense and let us 
proceed to business.” 

“ With all my heart. What is it ? ” 

“Here,” said she, producing it as she spoke, “ is the 
letter she has written home and which she, poor fool, 
thinks is already on the way to Kittaning.” 

“ Well, what is to he done with that ? ” 

“ What is to be done with that ? You seem very 
stupid. I really believe your partial success has turned 
your brain. Of course there is but one thing to be done. 
You are to take it, and at the proper time write an 
answer to it in her father’s name, consenting to the mar- 
riage and urging that it be solemnized at once. Then 
your way is clear enough, is it not ? ” said the woman. 

“ But that would be forgery.” 

“ What of it ? I don’t imagine that would hurt you 
much, or add anything to the weight of guilt already on 
your soul.” • 

“But of course she would know that it was not her 
father’s hand writing, and that would spoil all.” 

“ You are master enough of the pen to avoid all that.” 

“ But I have never seen any of his handwriting, and 
know not how to imitate it.” 

“ I have arranged for all that. While she was writ- 
ing this letter I stole two or three of her father’s letters 
from her dressing case, upon which they were lying. 
Here they are,” said she, producing them. “ And now 
you must go to work and get up an answer to this, send 
it to some one in Kittaning, and have it mailed there, 
and of course she will think it is genuine. You must 
be very careful what sort of a letter you write.” 

“You must help me compose it,” said he, with evi- 
dent admiration of her genius in the concoction of 
villainy. “ I confess you are smarter than I am.” 

“ Well, let us first read what she has written.” 


94 


ravenia; or, 


And tearing open the missive, the conspirators pro- 
ceeded without further delay or parley to analyze its con- 
tents. Ravenia had written a very kind and affectionate 
letter, speaking in the highest tones of her betrothed, in- 
forming her parents of what had taken place, and asking 
their consent to the union and their blessing on the same. 
After reading and sufficiently commenting upon it, they 
set to work to prepare a suitable reply, and after much 
erasure and changing produced the following : 

Kittaning, May — , 18 — . 

My Dear Daughter : Your note of — is received. 
It has produced no little surprise, and some degree of 
regret, both to your mother and myself, for we had in- 
dulged a hope that you and Harry might one day be 
united in the same holy ties which you now propose to 
form with another. And, knowing as we do, that his 
heart was set on this, but increases our disappointment. 

nevertheless, my dear daughter, we do not desire to 
throw any impediments in your way to happiness, and 
believing your affianced to be a worthy young man, we 
freely give our consent to the union, and with it our 
heartiest blessing. We have only to recommend that 
the marriage take place before your return home, as 
otherwise we fear an unpleasant scene with Harry, who 
I am satisfied really loves you. Immediately upon your 
marriage (which, on Mr. and Mrs. Shepley’s account, we 
think should be very private) we shall expect you and 
your husband to visit us and receive our warmest wel- 
come. Let us know when you will come, and we will 
meet you at the depot. 

Accept, my dear daughter, for yourself and your in- 
tended, the best wishes of your mother, and especially of 
Your affectionate father, 

Samuel C. Day. 

P. S. I enclose a note to Mrs. Shepley telling her 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. S5 

we are about giving a party and want you to come home. 
This will account for your leaving school so suddenly. 
Hand that to her. This letter you had, perhaps, better 
destroy, as we think it desirable for certain reasons that 
your marriage should be kept private for a time. 

S. C. D. 

When this villainous composition had been completed, 
Mary betook herself to her own room, while Myers, first 
carefully locking the door to avoid the possibility of in- 
trusion from any source, set himself to copy it, imitating 
as closely as possible the handwriting of Dr. Day. As 
his confederate had said, he was a perfect master of the 
pen, and in due time he. had produced a copy which so 
closely resembled Dr. Day’s chirography that very close 
scrutiny, indeed, would be required to show that it was 
a counterfeit. This letter he dispatched to a “ chum ” or 
“ pal ” of his at Kittaning, with instructions to mail it 
within a day or so after its receipt. This instruction, it 
may be remarked, was not complied with until his “pal ” 
had opened and read the letter, thus getting an idea of 
the scheme of villainy on foot, carefully treasuring 
up the information thus obtained for future usefulness 
and profit, after which it was duly mailed to accomplish 
its villainous object. 

But a few days had elapsed after the betrothal of 
Myers and Bavenia, nntil Mary brought her a letter just 
taken from the post-office. She glanced at the post-mark, 
saw that it was from home, and for a moment was so 
much agitated with her contending emotions that she 
hesitated to open it. Hope, anticipation, doubt and 
fear were each struggling for the mastery, but presently 
she broke the seal and began to read. Mary watched 
her closely to see if she had any suspicion of the vile plot 
of which the letter was the culmination, but she had 
read but a few lines when all doubt vanished, for a 


96 


kavenia; or, 


light as of the most radiant happiness overspread her 
countenance, and with a cry of joy she exclaimed: 

Oh ! Mary, I am so happy. Father and mother 
give their free consent and their blessing. "We will go 
home in a few days, and, dear Mary, you must go 
with us.’’ 

‘‘ I was sure they would not refuse you,” replied the 
treacherous girl, folding her in her arms, “ anything so 
important to your happiness. How kind they are.” 

“ They are the dearest father and mother girl yras 
ever blessed with,” replied Kavenia, with a full heart. 
“ But where is William ? Kun, Mary dear, and tell him 
to meet me in the arbor. Dear spot, I shall always 
remember it, and date my true happiness from the time 
I met William Myers there. Oh ! Mary, my happiness 
is now perfect,” and she burst into tears. 

Myers was in the arbor almost as soon as she was, 
and the character of the interview between them may be 
imagined by the reader. It was such as might be sup- 
posed to take place between two pure and loving souls 
from whose pathway every obstacle to the consummation 
of their heart’s desire and their perfect happiness had 
been removed. And upon Kavenia’s part all was sincer- 
ity and truth. ^ She believed Myers to be as good and 
pure as she was herself, and that she was just entering 
upon a life of pure enjoyment with a congenial soul, 
while he, deceitful villain that he was, read the letter 
which she put into his hand as though he had never seen 
it before, and then with lying lips mingled his expres- 
sions of congratulation and thankfulness with her’s. 

After some discussion it was finally settled between 
them that they should leave Huntingdon the next morn- 
ing, go to Blairsville, where William asserted that he had 
a sister living, be married there and then proceed to the 
home of Ravenia’s parents, reaching there on Saturday. 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


97 


Suddenly Eavenia remembered, what she had for a time 
forgotten, that there was a letter for Mrs. Shepley en- 
closed in the one she had received, and telling her lover 
of it, she hastened away to deliver it before that lady 
should retire for the night. She found Mrs. S. in her 
room preparing for bed, and the following conversation 
ensued : 

“Why, Eavenia, child what ails you? I supposed 
you were in your room long ago, but here you are, and 
you seem very much excited. What can it mean ? ” 

“ Oh ! Mrs. Shepley,’^ said she, eagerly, “ I am to go 
home to-morrow. I have a letter from father to that 
effect, and here is a note for you, which was enclosed in 
mine. Probably this will explain all.” 

Mrs. Shepley took the note, read it over, and then 
said : 

“ This seems very strange. Here,” said she, produc- 
ing a letter from her pocket, “ is a letter from your 
mother saying she will be here on Saturday, and here is 
another dated but one day later, directing us to send you 
home. What can it mean ? ” 

“ Most likely,” said Eavenia, “ she was coming for 
me but finally concluded she could not, and therefore 
sent this note to you. But I must go, for I think there 
is going to be a wedding, and I would not miss it for any- 
thing.” 

“ Why do you think there is going to be a wedding? ” 

“ Oh ! ” said Eavenia, not entirely truthfully, “ it has 
been talked of for some time.” 

“ But who is to be married ? ” persisted Mrs. Shepley. 

At this Eavenia blushed and hesitated, but finally 
replied: “ Cousin Harry, I think.” 

“ Well,” said Mrs. Shepley, “ I do not understand it 
at all, but at any rate, we shall of course make no effort 
to detain you when your parents summon you home. 


98 


ravenia; or, 


So now, my child, retire to your own room, and in the 
morning the carriage will be ready to take you to the 
depot. Good night.” 

“ Good night, my second mother,” said the girl, kiss- 
ing her with genuine affection as she left the room. 

On her way to her room she fell in with Myers and 
told him all about her interview with Mrs. Shepley, ‘‘ and 
now,” said she, with great glee, “ Til write and tell papa 
and mamma that they may expect us on Saturday next.” 

But to this he of course objected. It was no part of 
his plan to allow her to communicate with her parents 
until his schemes were accomplished, and he at once 
entered an earnest but lover-like protest against her writ- 
ing until she was Mrs. Myers, telling her there would be 
plenty of time to communicate with them after that 
happy event should have taken place. Finally, perceiv- 
ing that he was really in earnest in what she regarded a& 
a mere whim, she yielded, and gave him her promise to 
write no more letters until she could sign them Bavenia 
Myers instead of Ravenia Bay, and with a kiss of tender- 
est affection they parted for the night. 

It may seem strange to the reader that the peculiar 
circumstances attending the approaching marriage of 
Ravenia did not cause her to suspect that something was 
wrong and hold her back from the sacrifice she was 
about to commit. The sudden change in the intentions 
of her mother, as evidenced by the letter Mrs. Shepley 
had received, and the note inclosed in Ravenia’s letter — 
the request of her parents, so strange and unnatural, that 
the marriage should take place away from home and 
should be kept from Mrs. Shepley — the absurd and in- 
sufficient reason given for the request — the fact that 
Myers was unwilling to be married at Huntingdon where 
Ravenia was acquainted somewhat, and where the cere- 
mony would be witnessed by those whom she knew — 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


99 


his unwillingness to have her write home — all these were 
certainly suspicious circumstances, and in the light of the 
events already detailed, and the knowledge we have of 
the intentions of William Myers, leave her almost with- 
out excuse. But it must be borne in mind, dear reader, 
that she was not possessed of this knowledge ; that from 
the state of excitement under which she was laboring, 
she was not capable of judging and weighing circum- 
stances as calmly and dispassionately as we can at this 
distance of time ; that she had the most implicit trust in 
her betrothed, and that as yet she had seen no reason for 
suspecting him of any but the purest motives and inten- 
tions. And when all these facts are taken into the account, 
let us ask who in her situation, ignorant as she was of 
the devices and wickedness of the world, would have 
scrutinized more closely than she did ? Oh ! no, it was 
simply a struggle between an innocent, unsuspecting girl 
on one side, and two unprincipled schemers, familiar 
with every device of Satan, on the other, and the contest 
was too unequal to hope for her success. 


100 


ravenia; or, 


CHAPTEKIX. 

There are times in the life of every one when they 
shrink with indefinable but almost all controlling dread 
from the consummation of some enterprise in which, never- 
theless, their whole soul is enlisted — something which is 
the full fruition of their hopes and desires for a long 
period of time, but from which, on the eve of its comple- 
tion, they stand back with a lingering dread arising from 
the mysterious awe with which feeble and finite humanity 
is wont to contemplate the dim and unrevealed future — a 
consciousness of the inability of our limited and imper- 
fect vision to penetrate the vail in which our destiny is 
wisely enfolded, or to foresee and avoid the shafts which 
fate may have stood up for us in her remorseless quiver. 

So it was with Eavenia on the night with which the 
last chapter closes. The morrow would doubtless witness 
the consummation of the full measure of her heart’s 
desire ; would see her the bride of William Myers with 
the full sanction (as she supposed) of her parents, and 
she could not doubt that her happiness would be com- 
plete, and yet, the importance and solemnity of the step 
she was about to take weighed heavily upon her spirits 
and effectually banished sleep from her eyelids. What if 
she should after all have been deceived ? What if Myers 
should not prove the faithful, and loving husband he had 
promised to be ? What if, instead of augmenting her 
happiness by this union, she should only be consigning 
herself to a life of misery and wretchedness ? 

These and a thousand similar doubts occupied her 
mind until the first faint streaks of dawn began to tinge 


TUB OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


101 


the eastern skies, when she arose and dressed herself for 
the contemplated journey. Mary was at hand to aid her, 
and, by artfully painting the happiness in store for her, 
to confirm and strengthen her sinking spirits, and by the 
time William tapped at her door and informed her that 
the carriage was in readiness, she was fully equipped for 
the ride, and they at once set out. 

Myers had obtained permission from Mr. Shepley to 
accompany Eavenia to the depot, and as the carriage 
driver might have been somewhat in the way of the suc- 
cessful carrying out of his plans, he had decided to get 
rid of him, and accordingly had told him to go and do 
his morning’s work and he (Myers) would drive to the 
depot and back himself. Mrs. Shepley kissed Eavenia 
tenderly, charged her with kindly messages for her mother, 
wished her a pleasant journey and they set out; but in- 
stead of driving to the depot, Myers turned to the left 
into a street which led out of town on the road to the 
next station, about five miles away. When Eavenia asked 
the reason for this course, he laughed good naturedly 
and replied : 

“ Why, my dear, the morning is pleasant, and as 
carriage riding is so much more delightful than traveling 
on the cars, I thought we would stick to it as long as 
possible. Besides, I do not care about taking the cars 
where every one will know us. Have you any objections?’^ 

“ Oh ! no,” replied Eavenia, “ I agree with you 
entirely, but that plan did not occur to me before ; and 
certainly riding in the carriage where we can interchange 
ideas and thoughts is far preferable to the clatter and con- 
fusion of the cars. How I wish we were going all the 
way in our own conveyance.” 

“That, of course,” replied Myers, “ is out of the ques- 
tion,” “ we should be too long in getting to our destina- 
tion.” 


102 


ravenia; or, 


“ You are quite right, said Eavenia, “ but it would 
be so much more pleasant.’’ And then after a pause she 
added, ‘‘ What a lovely morning this is.” 

‘‘ Beautiful indeed. A most auspicious omen, is it 
not, that we should begin our journey under such favor- 
able circumstances ? Let us regard it as indicative of 
the happiness which shall ever attend us along the jour- 
ney of life on which we are about entering.” 

‘‘ Oh ! that the omen may indeed prove prophetic,” 
said Ravenia, in terms of earnest solemnity. 

Why does my darling speak with so much feeling ? ” 
asked Myers in tones of apparent concern. “ One would 
almost think that you regretted this step, or that you 
were afraid to intrust me with your happiness. But it is 
not so, surely ? ” 

“No, William,” replied she, while the love-light 
gleamed from her eye and overspread her whole coun- 
tenance, “I do not fear to trust you with my happiness, 
my life, my all. Had it been so, I should never have 
started on this ride with you. Still it is a solemn thought 
to give one’s self to another for life, and you must not 
blame me if I feel a little depressed in view of it. But 
believe me, dear William, I would not recall a single 
word that I have spoken, or a single step that I have 
taken in connection with you. Oh ! no, I do not distrust 
or doubt you in the least.” 

Where was William Myers’s conscience that no re- 
morse for his intended treachery toward her was awak- 
ened in his bosom, as Eavenia thus poured out her heart’s 
purest treasures before him? Alas! a long course of 
familiarity with every form of sin and vice had seared 
and calloused that monitor until its voice was no longer 
raised in warning him from the path of wrong, and the 
only feeling produced in his breast by her words of simple 
trust and confidence, was one of exultation at the evi- 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


103 


dence they afforded of how completely she was in his 
power. 

In due time they arrived at the station, and Myers 
had barely time to engage some one to take the carriage 
back to Huntingdon, when the train came thundering 
along with its living freight of joy and sorrow, of sadness 
and sunshine, of wealth and poverty. They took their 
seats and in a few seconds were whirling away in the 
direction of Blairsville, where they arrived about four 
o’clock in the afternoon. Calling a carriage they entered 
it, and William gave some direction to the driver in a 
low tone, at which that worthy bowed, mounted the box 
and drove off. After riding what seemed to Ravenia a 
long way, they drew up before a large house in the east- 
ern part of the town, and the driver, opening the door, 
said, ‘‘ This is the place.” 

“ Wait a moment, Ravenia,” said Myers, as he sprang 
from the carriage, “ until I see if my sister is at home,” 
and he ran up the steps and entered the house without 
stopping to ring the hell. In about ten minutes he re- 
turned, and saying, “My sister has just gone down in 
town, hut will soon return, and meantime I have a sister- 
in-law here who will make you welcome. He assisted her 
to alight, and dismissing the carriage they entered the 
house together, where they were met by a very good 
looking hut rather gaudily dressed woman of about forty, 
whom Myers introduced as his sister-in-law. She kissed 
Ravenia with considerable apparent warmth, and then 
led the way to the parlor. 

After conversing a few moments she excused herself 
and left the room, and Ravenia had a chance to look 
abt)ut her. The room in which they were was furnished 
with a profusion of richest furniture, but there was a 
want of taste and harmony which struck her somewhat 
painfully, while some of the pictures and ornaments, of 


104 


ravenia; or, 


wMch there were a great many, displayed a freedom and 
boldness which was quite shocking to Ravenia’s well cul- 
tivated sense of propriety. Myers, too, appeared ill at 
ease, and altogether she was far from feeling happy, and 
she was much relieved when the woman came back and 
said “the lady” could go to her room now if she wished. 

“ Come, my dear,” said Myers, rising and offering his 
arm, “ I will see you to your room, and then I think you 
had better go to bed soon, for I am sure you must be 
weary with our long journey.” 

And he conducted her up stairs, the woman leading 
the way, and into a room furnished, with the same pro- 
fusion and want of taste which had so struck Ravenia in 
the parlor, and yet it would have been difficult for her to 
say just exactly what it was that she objected to. Every- 
thing was of the richest and most expensive character, 
but there was a kind of garish air and appearance about 
the whole house, so far as she had seen it, which filled 
Ravenia with some vague apprehensions that something 
was wrong, though she hardly knew what. 

“ This will be your room while we stay here,” said 
Myers, “and mine will be the next room. And now,” 
said he, turning to the woman, who still remained in the 
room, “Will. you have supper brought up here for us ? 
Ravenia is too tired to go down, and we will take supper 
here, and she can be presented to the rest of the family 
in the morning.” 

The woman bowed and left the room without a word, 
and in a short time returned with a tray upon which was 
spread a very nice supper. But Ravenia could not eat. 
Everything was so strange, so constrained and formal ; 
there was so little cordiality between William and his 
pretended relatives, that she could not prevent some sus- 
picions that all was not right from being engendered in 
her mind. Myers saw the cloud gathering in her mind 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


105 


and upon her brow, and he strove most assiduously to 
remove it and restore her confidence until such time as it 
suited him to reveal the full truth, and for this purpose 
he redoubled his endearments and attentions, urged her 
to partake of the supper, or at least to drink a cup of tea, 
but when she refused either, alleging a headache as the 
cause, he finally ordered it taken away, and the woman 
in grave silence as heretofore obeyed his directions. 

And now, as soon as they were alone, he revealed his 
true character. Approaching the door he locked it and 
placed the key in his pocket and turned to Eavenia, who 
was so terrified that she could hardly ejaculate. 

“ William, what does that mean? Why did you lock 
the door ? ’’ 

“ To keep out intruders, my pretty bird,’’ he replied, 
with a leer so full of evil intent that she could not misin- 
terpret it, and at once burst into tears. 

‘‘ Oh ! William, William,” she cried, in anguish, 
“what do you mean? You have not deceived me? 
You could not be so base. Oh ! tell me who and what 
these people are.” 

“ Calm yourself, my dear Eavenia,” he replied. 
“ Surely you are not afraid of any evil befalling you 
while in company with your Willie. You do not think 
I would allow any one to come near you to do you any 
wrong, do you ? ” 

“ I hardly know what I think. Oh ! William, take 
me away from here. I am afraid to stay here. I cannot 
but think there is something wrong about this house, 
and will not stay here save as your wife. Go, William, 
and call a minister and let us be married, and then I shall 
be content, and not till then.” 

“ Well, Eavenia,” said he, in a tone so altered as to 
arrest her attention at once, for in it was the cold stern- 
ness of one who has been acting a part and has at length 
8 


106 


ravenia: or. 


reached a point where dissimulation is vain, “ it is useless 
to deceive you any longer. You may as well he calm 
and submit to what is not in your power to prevent. 
The letters which induced you to come here were never 
written by your father and mother. They were forged 
in answer to yours, which was never sent. Here it is,” 
and he drew it from his pocket and handed it to her. 
‘‘ This woman is no relative of mine, but — ” 

She heard no more. The revulsion of feeling conse- 
quent upon these startling revelations had overwhelmed 
her, and with a low cry of “ God help me,” she fell faint- 
ing to the floor. Happy had it been for her had she 
never awakened from that deathly swoon. 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


107 


CHAPTEE X. 

Three weeks have passed since the close of the last 
chapter — three weeks fraught with untold misery to thou- 
ands of fallen humanity — three weeks of unmitigated sor- 
row and wretchedness to Ravenia, who still remains a 
close prisoner in the house where he left her. She is not 
allowed to go out at all, and is so closely watched that it 
is impossible for her even to write to her parents, and 
they have lost every trace of her. Ah ! what would she 
not give for the means of communicating with Harry 
Day in this fearful time of trial. How gladly would she, 
lost, ruined as she is, have hailed a visit from him, well 
assured that he would release her from the terrible bond- 
age which was eating into her very soul, but vain hope. 

Xo communication is suffered to pass from her to any 
human being — no one sees her save the woman who daily 
brings her meals, and acts as her jailor, and who is the 
one introduced by the villain Myers as his sister-in-law. 
Even the miserable comfort of his presence denied her, 
for he has been gone for several days ; and to every in- 
quiry addressed to her cruel jailor as to his return or 
intentions ; to every frenzied appeal for mercy or aid ; 
to every prayer for liberty, she receives but the answer 
of studied silence. His orders to the heartless woman 
who is mistress of this den of iniquity had been very 
strict and imperative upon this point, and with a most 
demoniac faithfulness she adhered to them. 

Days rolled away into eternity, and when at length 
six weeks of weary imprisonment had passed away, Will- 
iam Myers presented himself before her. How her soul 
rose up in loathing at the sight of him who had so cruel- 


108 


ravenia; or, 


ly deceived and wronged her; who had blighted her 
young life, and who had made her a vile and despised 
outcast. 

“ Well, Eavenia,” said he in careless and indifferent 
tones, which revealed the innate depravity of his heart, 
“ and how goes the world ? I hope you are rather more 
reasonable than when we last saw each other.” 

‘‘I suppose,” said Eavenia, bitterly, “that it was not 
sufficient for you to blight my very existence and render 
life a burden to me, but you come here to taunt me with 
the misery which you have been the sole means of pro- 
ducing. Monster! how I loathe the very sight of you.” 

“ Oh! very well,” said he coldly, turning on his heel 
as he spoke, “ if that is the way you are going to talk, 
this interview may as well be ended at once. I hate 
scenes,” and he started to leave the room. 

“ William, William,” she cried, almost sick with the 
horror at the prospect of another long period of solitary 
incarceration, “for God’s sake, do not leave me here. 
Only take me away from this wretched place and I will 
submit to anything you may require. Take me away, or 
kill me at once.” 

“ Ah ! now you begin to be a little more sensible,” 
said he, returning into the room again, “ and we will see 
what we can do. I will take you away upon your giving 
your solemn promise to obey my directions in two or 
three particulars, which I deem of importance to my 
safety.” 

“Anything,” she replied, eagerly; “I will promise 
anything, so I but get out of this wretched prison.” 

“Well, then listen. You are to promise not to at- 
tempt any communication with any of your friends. 
You are to go with me wherever I wish, and never say 
to any one but that you are my wife. Lastly, you are 
not to indulge in any more such tantrums as you have 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


109 


been having of late, under penalty of my leaving you at 
once to shift for yourself. These are my terms. What 
say you ? ” 

‘‘ I will do anything you wish, to get away from here.’’ 

“Very good. Get yourself ready to leave and I will 
go for a carriage at once,” and so saying he left the 
room. 

In a short time he returned with a carriage into which 
he handed Kavenia, and springing in after her he took a 
seat by her side, and they whirled away in the direction 
of the depot. Arriving there they entered the cars and 
were soon away, Kavenia knew not whither, nor did she 
much care. Any place were better, she thought, than 
the one she was leaving. 

After riding sometime in silence, she ventured to ask 
him where they were going. 

“ To my home,” he replied, “ and now you are to 
remember that you are my wife, Mrs. Hartford. My 
name is William Hartford — remember.” 

She could not understand why this change of name, 
but made no reply. After a ride of some fifteen hours 
they stopped in a large city where everything was strange 
to her. 

“ Where are we? ” she at last ventured to ask. 

“ We are in the city of Pittsburgh,” he replied, ‘‘ and 
now remember what I told you. We are William Hart- 
ford and wife. If any one should ask your name before 
marriage it was Smith. Do you hear ? ” he asked, with 
significant emphasis. 

Kavenia heard, but she made no answer. He called a 
carriage which they entered, and as they drove oft* she 
asked where they were going, declaring that she would 
die before she would go to another such place as the one 
he had just taken her from. 

“ Is this your promise ? ” said he. ‘‘ But never mind,” 


110 


ravenia; or, 


he added, hastily, “ I am going to take you to respectable 
people. I am going where I have made arrangements 
for the board of myself and wife with a very respectable 
German family in a remote part of the city. So make 
yourself easy, and if you conduct yourself properly you 
will have a good home and will have everything you 
want.’’ 

“ I shall keep my promise,” said Eavenia, in a chok- 
ing voice, while her eyes filled with tears, “ and now I 
want you to keep yours, and make me your wife in truth, 
as you have in name.” 

“Wait until I see how you conduct yourself. If you 
behave aright toward me I will do so,” he replied, coldly. 

By this time they had arrived at a neat white cottage 
almost in the suburbs of the city, and a lady of plain but 
highly respectable appearance came forward to assist 
Eavenia out of the carriage, bowing in recognition of 
Myers as she came up. She conducted them into the 
house, and as she was assisting Eavenia to remove her 
wrappings, asked her what her name was. 

“ Eavenia Myers,” she replied. 

At the mention of this name Myers bit his lips, and 
the blood mounted into his forehead in a crimson fiush. 
Her husband coming in a moment after, the landlady in- 
troduced them to him as Mr. Myers and lady. Myers 
was boiling over with rage, but he dare not contradict 
Eavenia, for he felt sure that should he do so, she would 
not hesitate to reveal the true state of affairs between 
them. They soon retired to their own room, and then 
the pent-up wrath of Myers burst forth. 

“What do you mean, madam?” he hissed through 
his clenched teeth. “ Why did you not do as I told you? 
Why did you say your name was Myers ? ” 

“Because,” replied Eavenia, “if my name is not 
Myers it ought to be, and I am determined to bear your 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


Ill 


name if you still refuse to marry me. You duped and 
betrayed me under that name, and I know you by no 
other, and you need not try to play it on any other.” 

Myers was furious with rage, but Eavenia was firm 
in her determination, and he was forced to yield. Be- 
sides it was now too late to repair the mischief she had 
already done, and he did not dare to wreak physical 
vengeance upon her, and after storming about the mat- 
ter for some time, he finally submitted, only telling her 
that another transgression of his orders would result in 
his leaving her to shift for herself. And with this threat 
upon his lips, they descended to the dining room, where 
he treated her with all the kindness and attention which 
a husband could bestow upon the most dearly loved wife. 
Oh ! the hypocrisy of the world. 

For three weeks Myers and Eavenia remained at the 
house of Mr. Betts, and then Myers informed them that 
he was under the necessity of leaving for a short time to 
attend to some business of importance which required his 
presence elsewhere. The nature of the business he did 
not make known to their host and hostess, or to Eavenia 
— ^bad as she knew him to be, and as he knew she knew 
him to be, he dared not make known to her the nature 
of the business which called him away — but we will avail 
ourselves of an author’s privilege, and mention it. 

He was at this time one of the organized gang of 
villains and desperadoes who infest all our large cities, 
and whose ramifications extend into almost every com- 
munity, often including men whose position and standing 
in society place them above the reach of suspicion. 
Forgery, counterfeiting, larceny and pocket-picking are 
among the most ordinary crimes of these bandits, and 
not unfrequently their plans are so well laid, and their 
depredations so skillfully committed as to baffle dis- 
covery and set at fault the ingenuity of the most expe- 


112 


ravenia; or, 


enced detectives, while at other times some trifling event, 
carelessly overlooked, leads unerringly to the detection 
and arrest of the unlucky perpetrators. And on such 
occasions, neither time, trouble nor expense was spared 
by the gang to again set at liberty their confederates in 
crime. 

It was precisely such an occasion as this which now 
summoned Myers from his home. In a descent made 
upon the coders of a wealthy farmer, one of the most 
active and useful members of the gang had fallen into 
the iron clutches of the law, and was then in jail await- 
ing trial for his many crimes. Myers’s skill in the use of 
the pen, and consequent value as a forger, had given 
him a high position in the gang, and to him was now 
assigned the task of devising and carrying out a plan for 
the release of his fellow villain from the confinement 
which was already so irksome, and which threatened 
such dire results in the future. And this was the busi- 
ness which now called him away. A letter received the 
evening before from one of the high officials of the in- 
famous order had informed him what was expected of him, 
and he at once set about carrying out his instructions. 
It is entirely foreign to the purposes of this story to fol- 
low him through the organization and successful execu- 
tion of his nefarious plan for evading the just vengeance 
of the law from the guilty head of his confederate — it is 
sufficient for us to say that his efibrts were but too suc- 
cessful, and that one of the most notorious villains of the 
age was once more allowed to go unwhipped of justice. 

Before leaving, he paid one month’s board for Eave- 
nia, gave her fifty dollars in money, and in an interview 
with Mrs. Betts urged her to do all she could to make 
Eavenia comfortable, and with a promise to her whom 
he had sadly deceived that he would soon return, and 
that he would redeem his promise and make her his wife 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


113 


upon rejoining her, he left her with all the simulation of 
affection which he could have displayed had he been one 
of the noblest of men and she his lawful wife. 

But, however much Mrs. Betts may have been de- 
ceived by this pretended love, Eavenia was not. She 
had long since lost all confidence in him, and she re- 
garded his departure at this time simply as a desertion. 
She did not believe he w ^uld ever return, or that if he 
did he would ever marry her, and so redeem her from 
the life of shame and misery to which he had consigned 
her by his infamous villainy. But what could she do ? 
She was an outcast and an object of contempt and scorn 
— return to her school she could not, nor to Dr. Day^s, 
and she saw no relief from the fearful bondage which 
oppressed her. But her ^necessities were provided for 
for the present, and she decided to remain where she was 
for a time, hoping almost against hope that something 
might turn up by which her deliverance could be effected. 

Myers had been gone just a week when she received 
a letter from him. It was without any heading to indi- 
cate his whereabouts, and she tried in vain to decipher 
the post-mark, or to obtain the least clew even as to the 
direction in which he had gone. But although he had 
taken such evident pains to conceal his whereabouts, this 
letter was a great comfort to Eavenia, and did much to 
restore her fast waning confidence in him, for despite all 
his ill-treatment and deceit of her — the truth must be 
confessed — she loved him still. The letter was couched 
in very affectionate terms : spake of his loneliness while 
away from her; his hopes of being able to rejoin her be- 
fore long; renewed his promise of marriage upon his 
return, and so on. And like thousands of women who 
have loved and been deceived, and then have loved and 
trusted again, poor Eavenia hugged his false protesta- 
tions and hollow promises to her heart, cherished them 


114 


ravenia; or, 


in her inmost soul, and fondly believed he would yet 
redeem his plighted word. 

Such is the long-suffering, patient love of a true 
hearted, pure and noble woman. When the priceless 
treasures of her heart have once been laid upon the altar 
of the shrine of her affections, the flame of her devotion 
gleams brightly and steadily athwart the horizon of life, 
unquenched and unquenchable, ever cheering and vivify- 
ing us with its ardent rays, and though the luster of its 
burning may be dimmed and even partially obscured by 
the cold ashes of bitterness, neglect or abuse, let but the 
slightest breath of affection fall upon it, and the flame 
once more streams up bright and pure and beautiful as 
before. So it was with Ravenia. She loved William 
Myers with all the ardor and unselflsh devotion of her 
pure and noble nature, and though his deceit and abuse 
of her had for a time destroyed, or rather suppressed, her 
confidence in him, but these few words of kindness and 
love were necessary to cause her to forget all the wrong 
of which she had been the victim, and once more trust 
the words which he had already so often broken. 

The letter informed her that it would be out of his 
power to return as soon as he had hoped and expected 
to when he left; that he could not now tell just when he 
would come, but in a few weeks at the farthest; that cir- 
cumstances would not admit of his writing again until he 
came, and wound up by telling her to keep up her spirits, 
not to be uneasy and he would be with her again in four 
or five weeks at the most. And Ravenia, poor dupe that 
she was ! allowed herself to be cheered and comforted by 
these promises and these honeyed words, and sat down 
calmly to wait the period of their fulfillment. 

But the longest period set for his coming passed by; 
then a week followed ; then a month, two months, and 
still he came not. What could it mean ? 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


115 


“ Hope deferred maketh the heart sick.” 

And 80 it was with Eavenia. As the days slowly glided 
away into eternity, she still on each returning evening 
whispered to herself, He will surely come to-morrow,’’ 
until at last even the light of this hope faded out in .her 
bosom, and she slowly settled down into the heart-break- 
ing conviction that she was really and finally deserted. 
And as this conclusion forced itself down into her mind, 
she tried to reflect upon the awful condition to which her 
association with him had reduced her, until it seemed to 
her that her brain must go wild. 

At last in a sort of frenzy of despair she determined 
to write to Dr. Day, confessing all, telling them how she 
had been duped and deceived by the villainy of Myers, 
and imploring them once more to afford her the shelter 
which had so long been her protection and safety. And 
with her eyes almost blinded by scalding tears she seated 
herself to her task. 

1 wish it were in my power to reproduce before the 
reader this sorrowful letter. Could each one see it as I 
have seen it, all blotted and stained with tears, full of 
heart broken meanings and hitter self-reproaches — the 
vocal utterance of that repentance and remorse which was 
consuming her soul — it is not within the compass of any 
human heart to withhold its forgiveness for the error she 
committed in remaining with William Myers after she 
discovered the villainy of his black heart, and learned 
how he had deceived her. Perchance hut very few of 
my readers would have had the courage and hardihood 
under the same circumstances, to have done what she 
should have done — abandoned him at once, and denounc- 
ing him to the world, have trusted a generous public for 
protection against him — but still her compliance with his 
demands were none the less an error for which there can 
be no apology, and, for which nothing but the most 


116 


ravenia; or, 


sincere contrition and repentance can in any degree 
atone. And that Ravenia then experienced this repent- 
ance, this letter affords abundant evidence. But the 
document has unfortunately been mislaid, and after the 
most diligent search, I regret to say that I am unable 
even to furnish the reader a copy of it. 

At length her missive was completed, and placing it 
carefully in her pocket, she started for the post-office to 
mail it. It was with a beating heart that she went forth 
to make this last effort to escape from the vortex of sin and 
shame which had so well nigh overwhelmed her — judge 
then of her dismay when she opened the front door and 
stood face to face with him from whose clutches she was 
just trying to escape, the destroyer of her peace — William 
Myers 1 She reeled as if struck by a bullet, but recover- 
ing her self possession in a moment, drew her veil more 
closely about her face and attempted to pass him without 
speaking. But he seized her by the arm and led her 
back into the room she had just left. 

‘‘Ah, ha! Miss,’’ he hissed in a savage tone, “so you 
are above speaking to William Myers, are you ? ” 

She was so dumbfounded and terrified at the evil pas- 
sions fiaming from his eyes, that she was unable to reply. 

“Perhaps,” he continued, with cool, diabolical vil- 
lainy, “ you are sorry to see me. If so I am ready to 
leave you.” 

“Yes, William,” she replied, with the courage of 
despair, “I am sorry to see you. I wish you had not 
come back, for then I would have been happy once more. 
But now all my hopes are blasted.” 

“Pray, tell me if it suits your ladyship,” said he, 
sneeringly, “what you would have done to support your- 
self in this new-found happiness. Perhaps you have 
• another lover who can do more for you than I can. If 




THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


117 


80 it is all right, for it is about all I can do to support my 
wife and family without spending much money on you.’^ 

‘‘Your wife and children,” she murmured, with a 
sickening sensation at her heart, for she did not dream 
that he had merely invented this ready lie to facilitate his 
desertion of her. 

“Yes, my wife and children,” he replied, without 
regard to her intense agony. “ I was married and had 
three children long before I ever saw your baby face. 
Hence you see the necessity of economy in my dealings 
with such as you.” 

But she heard not the taunt contained in the last sen- 
tence, for overcome by the violence of her emotions she 
had swooned and fallen to the floor. He made no eflbrt 
to revive her, but bending over her lifeless form he coolly 
proceeded to examine her pocket, and of course found 
the letter she had just written. Opening it with the skill 
of his practiced villainy, he read it through. 

“ Ah, ha ! ” said he to himself, “ this is what she was 
up to. Well, I don't think I am quite ready to have Dr. 
Day come down on me with this letter to stimulate and 
guide his vengeance. Til fix that if she only don't revive 
too soon.” 

And seating himself at the table he proceeded to write 
a note giving a brief account of Eavenia's death and 
burial, signed it “ Martin Harris,” put it in the envelope 
in place of the one she had just written, and carefully 
sealing it, restored it to her pocket, she remaining all the 
time in a state of unconsciousness. He then threw water 
in her face and she opened her eyes, but immediately 
closed them when she saw him bending above her. 

“ Come,” said he, roughly, “ we've had enough of this. 
You had better get up and let us come to some under- 
standing.” 


118 


ravenia; or, 


She rose without replying, and he assisted her to a 
chair. 

‘‘ iN'ow,’’ said he, “ I am ready to leave, since you wish 
it. Here,” he continued, producing a roll of bills from 
which he counted out fifty dollars, “ is all the money I 
can afibrd to give you. And I suspect you had better 
leave this place. They think you are my wife now, and 
if you go away they will never know any better.” 

She took the money and simply said, “I wish you 
would leave me — I want to go out.” 

“Very well,” said he, taking his hat, “I hope you 
may get along pleasantly with your new lover.” 

“William Myers,” said she, turning toward him with 
flashing eyes, “ beware how you trifle with me, for I am 
desperate. I have no lover, as you ought to know. I am 
going to Dr. Day’s, the only true friend I ever had.” 

“ Oh ! oh ! ” said he, sneeringly, “ what a pretty thing 
it is when it is angry. Going to Dr. Day’s, are you ? 
That is very bright. Do you suppose they will have you 
in their house ? I should rather think not. That is the 
last place you would find shelter, but you can try it. I 
should think, however, you had better write and an- 
nounce your coming before you go blundering in there. 
You might get turned out again, you know, and that 
would not be so pleasant.” 

“ For mercy’s sake, leave me,” she murmured, faintly, 
her momentary flash of anger having left her as suddenly 
as it came, and shuddering, she covered her face with her 
hands. 

“ Certainly, my love, since you desire it. Good bye. 
Happiness attend you,” and turning on his heel he left 
the room. ' 

Left to herself, the pent up emotion of her soul gave 
way and she burst into a flood of tears. “ Oh ! God,” 
she moaned in the bitterness of anguish, “ grant me Thy 


THE OUTCAST KEDEEMED. 


119 


strength to bear this heavy burden of sorrow.” But no 
prayer for vengeance upon her seducer arose to her lips 
or welled up in her heart. Oh ! no. Her soul was too 
pure and tender to forget for one moment that He has 
said, “Vengeance is mine and I will repay.” 

Long time she sat thus, then remembering her letter 
and the mighty interest to her depending thereon (she 
knew nothing of the fraud which had been practiced upon 
her), she felt in her pocket, found it safe as she supposed, 
and removing so far as she was able the traces of tears 
from her countenance, she went and mailed it ; then re- 
turned and sat down to think over her situation and what 
was to he done. 

She had fifty dollars in money, hut she owed some- 
thing on her board — nevertheless she thought that would 
last her until her letter would reach her home when she 
made no doubt the Dr. would hasten at once to her relief. 
And with this pleasing reflection she solaced herself to 
something like composure, and at tea time met the fam- 
ily with but few traces of extraordinary emotion. Poor 
child ! she little imagined the effect which would really 
be produced by the letter from which she hoped and 
anticipated so much. 


120 


ravenia; or, 


CHAPTER XI. 

Let us return for a short time to the residence of Dr. 
Day, and contemplate the effect upon that happy house- 
hold of Ravenia’s sudden and almost mysterious disap- 
pearance. 

As the reader is already aware, Mrs. Day had written to 
Mrs. Shepley that she was coming to visit Ravenia on the 
Saturday following her flight with Myers, and on Friday 
a letter had arrived at the Huntingdon postoffice for 
Ravenia, requesting her to meet them at the depot with 
the carriage on the following day, hut,of course, this letter 
was never received. It was, however, brought to the 
Shepley school with the rest of the mail; and being 
mailed at Kittaning, where Ravenia waS supposed to he, 
excited some suspicion that all was not right, especially 
as Myers had not been seen since her departure. 

On Saturday, Mrs. Day, accompanied by Harry, left 
home for the Shepley school, Arriving at the depot, in 
Huntingdon, they were not a little surprised at seeing 
neither Ravenia nor the carriage waiting, for them, and 
at once became apprehensive of some evil, though their 
worst imagining fell far short of the reality. They anx- 
iously inquired of the by-standers if any of the Shepley s 
or their pupils were ill, and upon being assured that those 
of whom they inquired knew of no sickness there, Mrs. 
Day became so impatient to know what could have pre- 
vented Ravenia from complying with their request of the 
day before that she could hardly wait while Harry 
found a carriage to take them to their destination. 

Arriving there, they met Mrs. Shepley, whose surprise 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


121 


at seeing them was only equaled by their not meeting 
Ravenia. 

“Where is my child?” said Mrs. Day, without even 
waiting for the customary salutations, “ and why did she 
not meet us at the depot as usual ? ” 

“ Your child,” said Mrs. Shepley in a tone of aston- 
ishment too genuine to doubt its sincerity, “ is she not at 
home ? ” 

“ At home ? why, no. Why should she be at home ? 
You do not mean to say she is not here.” 

“ I do, indeed.” 

“ Where is she then ? Oh ! Mrs. Shepley if you have 
failed in your duty to her, I will hold you to a terrible 
responsibility,” said Mrs. Day, almost wild with alarm 
and terror of — she knew not what. 

“ Calm yourself, my dear Mrs. Day,” replied Mrs. 
Shepley, though she was herself but little less excited 
than the lady she addressed, “ there is some terrible mis- 
take here, but let us hope for the best.” 

“ But where is my child ?” 

“I will tell you all I know of her. This letter,” said 
Mrs. Shepley, producing the one Ravenia had handed to 
her, “ was brought to me by Ravenia herself last Tues- 
day evening. I was not a little surprised, having but 
the day before received one from you informing me that 
you were coming to-day, but, of course, I could not say 
anything, and the next morning she left.” 

“ Let me see that letter,” and Mrs. Day glanced has- 
tily over its contents. “ I never wrote that letter in the 
world,” said she. “ Oh ! Mrs. Shepley, my child is for- 
ever lost, I fear. Did any one go with her ? ” 

“Yes, Mr. Myers went to see her to the depot; sent a car- 
riage back by a boy, with a message to the effect that 
he had decided to acompany Ravenia all the way, and 
has not been here since. We supposed he was visiting 
9 


122 


ravenia; or, 


at your house, but I see it all now,” she continued, speak- 
ing rapidly. “ You say you never wrote that letter. It 
has been forged for the purpose of deceiving me, and she 
and William Myers have eloped together.” 

Mrs. Day covered her face with her hands and sank 
back in a chair, almost fainting. 

“ Oh ! Eavenia, Eavenia,” she moaned aloud, “ where 
are you ? How could you thus deceive' us all ? ” 

^‘De calm, my dear aunt,” said Harry, who had 
silently listened to the sad disclosure, his voice tremulous 
with emotion, ‘‘ Eavenia has not deceived us. She has 
been the victim of the basest treachery and deceit, and I 
will find her if she is alive, and bitterly shall her wrongs 
be avenged. That villain, Myers, is at the bottom of the 
whole of it, and God being my helper, I solemnly swear 
never to rest until he has answered for his crime against 
her.” 

‘‘ Oh ! Harry,” almost shrieked Mrs. Day, ‘‘ find her 
and restore her to me, and I will forever bless you.” 

“ She shall be found if she is alive,” he replied, his 
fine, dark eyes suffused with tears, and every muscle 
quivering with emotion, “ and fearful vengeance shall be 
taken for her wrongs.” 

And assisting his aunt to a room where she reclined 
upon a bed, he hastened at once to the telegraph office 
to summon Dr. Day to the scene. 

The doctor came on the first train, and upon arriving 
he was as much surprised at the situation of affairs as any 
one, and his emotion was little less violent than that of 
his wife. He had learned to love Eavenia as his own 
child, and her fall had almost overwhelmed his heart with 
its weight of sorrow, but like Harry, he recognized the 
necessity of immediate action, and together they set 
about the apparently almost hopeless task of finding the 
lost one. 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


123 


Their first step was to find the boy who had brought 
back the carriage on the morning of their fiight, and then 
to their astonishment they learned for the first time that 
Myers and Ravenia had gone to another station to take 
the cars. Thither they went, and were there fortunate 
enough to find a man who knew Myers by sight and had 
been present when he purchased two tickets for Blairs- 
ville, and had seen him enter the cars in company with a 
young lady. Of course this could be none other than 
Ravenia, and to Blairsville they went, where they suc- 
ceeded in tracing the fugitives to the house at which they 
had stopped. 

But there all trace of them was lost. The people at 
the house were unable or unwilling to give any account 
of their movements from that time forward, and after 
having spent several days in a vain attempt to ascertain 
in what direction they had gone, they were compelled 
reluctantly to give it up and return home. 

But the search was by no means discontinued. The 
next step was to advertise in the papers, ofiering liberal 
rewards for any information which would lead to her dis- 
covery, and patiently they waited for some response, but 
in vain. This efibrt was as bootless as the other, and 
Harry then employed two or three professional detectives 
to continue the search. Their efibrts, however, though 
stimulated by profiers of the most ample compensation, 
were equally unavailing with those of Harry and the 
doctor, and it seemed that they must fail. Ravenia could 
not have been more completely hidden had the angry 
ocean opened its mouth and swallowed her up, than she 
seemed to be in the maelstrom of sin and vice in which 
she was engulfed. 

The days grew into weeks, and weeks into months, 
and still no tidings from the lost ones, and still Harry 
was as unremitting in his search for her as ever, and still 


124 


ravenia; or, 


lie confidently asserted that sooner or later he should 
find her. But suspense and grief were making fearful 
inroads upon the aged form of Dr. Day. His whole soul 
was bound up in Ravenia, and her departure from the 
path of rectitude preyed upon his spirit and was rapidly 
wearing out his life, and it soon became painfully evident 
that he would not endure the struggle much longer. 
His wife felt the loss as keenly as he did, but her spirits 
were more elastic than his. She, too, possessed, in her 
sincere faith in the Lord Jesus Christ, a sustaining power 
which he lacked, and the efiects of the blow were less 
visible in her than in him. 

At last the mail brought a letter to Dr. Day. He 
started as his eye fell upon the address, for he recognized 
Ravenia’s well remembered hand-writing. With trem- 
bling fingers he broke the seal, glanced over its contents, 
and with a low groan allowed it to fall from his nerveless 
hand to the fioor. Terrified at what she saw, Mrs. Day 
hastened forward, picked up the letter and read it. It 
was the one which Myers had substituted in lieu of the 
one written by Ravenia to inform her parents of her 
whereabouts, and beg their permission to return to the 
shelter of their home, and with the contents of which the 
reader is already somewhat familiar. 

The receipt of this letter was the finishing blow to 
Dr. Day. Of course he did not believe that Ravenia was 
dead, for there was her own hand writing upon the 
envelope to contradict such a supposition, but he regarded 
it as evidence of her entire abandonment of a life of vir- 
tue, and he never recovered from the shock. In a few 
short weeks his weeping wife and nephew followed his 
remains to the tomb. Ah ! how much of pain and an- 
guish the heartless brutality of man causes to his fellow 
man. 

Harry, however, was not disposed to give up the chase, 


THE OUTCAST EEDEEMED. 


125 


notwithstanding the opinion of his lamented nncle. As 
soon as the last honors had been paid to his memory, he 
set out for Pittsburgh ; that being the place at which the 
letter was mailed, nothing doubting, that there he should 
be able to gain some tidings of her whom he had so loved. 
But he was destined never to reach the end of his jour- 
ney. 

Our readers cannot have forgotten the terrible calam- 
ity on the Pennsylvania Central Eailroad, about ten 
years since, which filled so many happy homes, not only 
in that State but elsewhere, with the voice of lamen- 
tation and mourning. For sometime it was impossible 
to obtain correct lists of the killed and wounded, and 
hence to the grief of those who knew the extent of their 
losses, was added the agony of suspense of the thousands 
who supposed they might have friends upon the ill-fated 
train, and of whose fate they were unable to gain any 
tidings. 

Harry Day was one of the victims of this sad disaster. 
As he was hastening on his mission of love and mercy, 
without the least warning, and without the fault of any 
one, the calamity overtook the fated train, and he, like 
many fellow passengers, was in a moment buried beneath 
the debris of wrecked and ruined cars. When extricated 
it was found that he had sustained fearful contusions of 
the head and body, and, though still living, his injuries 
were at once pronounced fatal. He never regained his 
senses or spoke, but in a few hours his soul winged its 
way from its mangled tenement of clay to the bosom of 
his Father and his God. 

Mrs. Day was now left alone in the world, her only 
near relatives were gone, and she was getting old and fee- 
ble, and bowed beneath the weight of the fearful trials 
which had been meted out to her in such rapid succession. 
She was still able to say “ Thy will be done,’’ but she 


126 


ravenia; or, 


felt that her trials were almost too heavy to he borne 
alone and without the society and sympathy of friends. 
She accordingly decided to accept the invitation of a 
young married lady by the name of Annie Lake, who 
had been an intimate friend of Ravenia in her happier 
days, to make her home with her, and proceeded to sell 
her house and furniture preparatory to doing so. She 
almost wept at the thought of the dear old place, where 
she had lived so long and so happily, passing into the 
hands of strangers, but there seemed no help for it, and so 
the sacrifice *was made. 

Behold then, the results of the villainy of Myers. 
Ravenia is an outcast ; her adopted father hurried to his 
grave by grief at her supposed defection ; Harry a victim 
of disaster encountered in his efforts to reclaim her ; her 
mother among comparative strangers, an exile from the 
home which would soon cease to be known as the residence 
of the kind hearted doctor — an entire family, as it were, 
destroyed, and even their abode no longer known among 
friends and neighbors. Surely, unless his heart be harder 
than the nether millstone, the pangs of remorse must 
haunt his hours, both sleeping and waking, with ter- 
rors beyond the power of human tongue to tell; but 
no, the wretch who, for the sake of a momentary gratifi- 
cation, can deliberately set about the ruin of an innocent 
and confiding girl, must possess a conscience incapable 
of being moved by anything short of the thunders of 
Divine vengeance, which he will surely hear at the great 
day when all shall stand before the bar of the immutable 
Judge to receive the reward of the deeds done on earth. 

But Myers’s evil work was not yet completed. In 
order to drive Ravenia to despair, and, if possible, pre- 
vent her ever returning to the life of virtue and peace 
from which he had taken her (so desperate does the con- 
stant contact with evil render the human heart), he had 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


127 


still another forgery to commit, and, without his seared 
conscience uttering a single reproof, he set about it, be- 
lieving that in so doing he would lessen the chances of 
his detection and well merited punishment. 

The reader will readily conceive the intense eagerness 
with which Kavenia looked for the arrival of an answer 
to the letter which she supposed she had sent to her par- 
ents, and which she fondly hoped would be the means of 
her restoration. At length came a letter hearing the 
Kittaning postmark and addressed to her in the well 
known hand writing of her adopted father. With what 
trembling eagerness she broke the seal, but at the first 
glance what bitter disappointment filled her soul. The 
letter was as follows : 

“ Ungrateful Child : Having left us in the way you 
did, after all that we had done for you, never expect to 
darken our doors again. Far better had it been for us to 
have let you died in infancy under the treatment of Mrs. 
Armstrong, than to have taken you to our bosoms and 
nursed you as we have, only that you might cover us all 
with infamy and disgrace. You have brought our gray 
hairs with sorrow to the grave, and we never wish to see 
or hear from you again. Your deeply wronged friends, 

‘‘ Dr. and Mrs. Day.” 

Kavenia could hardly read this cruel letter to the 
close, and then moaning, ‘‘I am lost, I am lost,’’ she 
threw herself on the bed and gave way to the violence of 
her emotions. “ Oh ! ” she sobbed, had they but sent 
me one kind word, they might have saved me, but now 
I am forever lost, an'd I care not what I do, or what be- 
comes of me.” Poor child ! She little suspected that 
Dr. Day had neither seen her letter or written this one ; 
but that by the machinations of her seducer her own 
letter had been prevented from reaching him, and that 
the one before her was the work of the same pen whose 


128 


ravenia; or. 


diabolical skill bad been so potent in working her ruin ; 
but, as the reader well understands, such was the fact. 

But violent outbursts of grief seldom last long ; they 
wear themselves out by their own force, and so it was in 
the present instance. Ravenia in due time became com- 
paratively calm, and after reflecting upon the situation in 
which she was placed, she resolved to make one more 
effort to escape from the fate impending over her, and 
toward the consummation of which circumstances seemed 
to be hurrying her with such frightful rapidity ; but how 
should she set about it ? What could she do ? The 
blackness of despair almost enveloped her as she again 
turned to contemplate the horrid future, deserted by all 
her friends, as she believed herself to be, but resolutely 
shutting her eyes to the horrid nightmare which was 
slowly creeping upon her. She determined to accquaint 
her landlady with the situation of affairs and seek her 
advice. So accustomed had Ravenia been all her life to 
depend upon some one else ; so ignorant was she of the 
world and its ways, that she dared not adventure any 
means of escape from the dilemma in which she was 
placed, without the advice and encouragement of some 
one older and more experienced than herself. 

It was after dark when she sought Mrs. Betts and told 
her the true relation existing between Myers and herself. 
She imparted to her, without reserve, all the circumstances 
attending the establishment of that relation ; how she was 
cast off by her friends ; her almost despair, and her intense 
desire to escape from the hideous fate which appeared 
awaiting her, and asked her advice and assistance. 

But neither her pitiful tale, nor the tears which ac- 
companied its recital, awakened any sympathy or com- 
passion in the heart of her listener. She only grasped at 
the fact that the weeping girl before her was a social out- 
cast, and with a spirit of uncharitableness, all too common 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


129 


in the world, she regarded her as a moral outcast also, 
her tale as a sheer fabrication to excuse her criminality, 
and her tears as the mere display of hypocritical emotion 
instead of tears of penitence and sorrow, and she regarded 
her house and herself as contaminated and defiled by 
Ravenia’s presence there. 

‘‘You vile creature,” she replied, as Ravenia finished 
her sorrowful tale, “ how dare you come among decent, 
respectable people and conduct yourself in the way you 
have ? But you shall not stay here another hour. Pack 
up your things and leave here at once. I do not believe 
a word of your story about having been deceived, and all 
that sort of thing. Women like you always have plenty 
of lies at hand to excuse themselves. So you can just get 
away from here at once.” 

Ravenia was so thunderstruck by this violent outburst 
that for a moment she was utterly incapable of a reply. 
She had expected sympathy and kindness — she met re- 
proach and contumely. At length she faltered a request 
“to be allowed to remain there till morning.” 

“R’ot another hour,” said the harsh and imperious 
woman. “ You have already disgraced my house enough, 
and you shall go at once.” 

“ But what can I do ? ” pleaded Ravenia, “ if you 
turn me out of doors at this time of night? I know not 
where to go or what will become of me.” 

“ It is no difference to me where you go,” was the 
unfeeling answer. “ Such as you can always find places 
enough. You can go wherever you like or wherever you 
can find shelter. But you have imposed upon respecta- 
ble people long enough.” 

“ Madam,” said Ravenia, with forced and unnatural 
calmness and dignity, “you have said enough. I will 
go, and if at some future time you shall, perchance, hear 
that I am lost and undone : the degraded being you now 


130 


ravenia; or, 


take me for, and beyond the hope of redemption, you 
can console yourself with the reflection that it was your 
cruelty this night which drove me to the fate from which, 
God knows, it is my sincere desire to escape/’ 

“ Let us have no more of your prating, but get your- 
self ready and leave my house immediately,” said the 
woman, leaving the room in which this interview had 
taken place. 

For a moment Ravenia was almost paralyzed with 
horror ; then murmuring, “ God help me, the whole 
world is against me,” she mechanically proceeded to 
pack her trunk, and in half an hour was standing in the 
streets of Pittsburgh amid darkness and woe ; a wretched 
outcast, without even a shelter for her head. Where 
should she go? What would become of her? These 
vital questions forced themselves upon her with the most 
painful, fearful distinctness, and still she was unable to 
answer them, and still they again and again obtruded 
themselves, until her brain fairly whirled. 

But why follow her through her adventures on this 
fearful night, or recount the wretchedness of her plight, 
as she wandered alone and shelterless throughout the 
whole of that livelong night ? The reader may imagine 
all he or she can of the horrors of such a situation to one 
who had been reared amid the refinement and luxury 
which had characterized her life, and they will then fall 
short of the sad reality. 

And even when the morning came her situation was 
scarcely improved in the least. A stranger in a large 
city, without means even to pay a week’s board, all un- 
used to work for a livelihood, and with scarce the ability 
or knowledge to do so, and with neither influence nor 
recommendations to enable her to procure work, even had 
she been qualified to perform it, her situation was indeed 
most pitiable. True, she succeeded in finding board and 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


131 


shelter for the time being, but how was she to pay for it ? 
Her wardrobe was limited, and even if she resorted to 
disposing of that to pay her moderate bills it would last 
but a short time, and when that was gone what was she 
to do? But she had no other resource, and piece by 
piece her clothing went, while she vainly sought employ- 
ment of some kind at which she could support herself. 

It may seem strange to my readers that a girl of 
Bavenia’s intelligence should have sunk into such abject 
poverty and destitution, but it must be borne in mind that 
she had been tenderly reared and was ignorant of the 
world and its ways, and this, together with her naturally 
timid and retiring disposition, totally unfitted her to bat- 
tle with the stern realities of life. Alas ! how many a 
poor fallen woman has been driven to a life of shame and 
degradation by the same causes now so thickly clustering 
around, and so fearfully pressing upon poor Bavenial 
What a fearful account was her wretchedness and misery 
daily heaping up against William Myers in the eternal 
court ! How would his conscience, if not entirely dead- 
ened by contact with sin and vice, have smitten him 
could he have known of the sufiering entailed upon this 
lovely and innocent girl by his villainy ? 


132 


ravenia; or, 


CHAPTER XII. 

Three years have passed since the close of the last 
<jhapter, and Ravenia, after numerous adventures, which 
it were vain and profitless to try to recount, was living 
in Cincinnati in the same squalid want and misery which 
environed her in Pittsburgh. Indeed, the miseries 
through which she had passed would hardly be believed 
if detailed. Often suffering for food, sometimes without 
even a shelter for her head, her clothing (what little she 
had left) in rags and scarcely sufficient to hide her naked- 
ness, she was indeed in a most pitiable condition. One 
<jould hardly realize the existence of such destitution in 
this happy land of ours, but that such cases are — to the 
shame of our charity be it said — by no means rare. 

But the reader will ask how she came to be in Cin- 
cinnati ? Let us explain. 

At the opening of this chapter the rude alarms of 
dreadful war were resounding in every nook and corner 
of our fair and happy land. The foolish and wicked de- 
termination of the Southern States to rule or ruin the 
most prosperous nation on which the sun ever shone had 
culminated in open and bloody rebellion, and civil war 
with all its attendant horrors was upon us, covering the 
whole nation with the sable garments of mourning as 
with a mighty pall. From every hamlet and village and 
town and city arose the voice of lamentation, while the 
very earth trembled with the tread of hundreds of thou- 
sands of the bravest and best, crowding forward to immo- 
late themselves, if need be, upon the altar of their country, 
and to perish amid the flames of that dreadful conflagra- 
tion lighted by the parricidal hands of traitors. 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


133 


Every one of my readers remember how, at the break- 
ing out of hostilities, thousands, both men and women, 
flocked to the great central points, whence were sent forth 
the supplies of every kind to promote the comfort and 
efllciency of our brave army, in the hope of obtaining 
that employment necessary to sustain themselves and 
their loved ones. 

Cincinnati early becanpie a place of rendezvous for the 
hosts of brave men moving southward to enforce obedi- 
ence and allegiance to the starry banner, and one im- 
mense depot of supplies and munitions of war of all kinds. 
There, too, were established extensive hospitals, and all 
furnished employment for thousands of willing, strong 
and skillful hands, whose labors were not less important 
and conducive to the general end in view than the more 
dangerous duties of the soldiers at the front. 

Eavenia, who had long since despaired of earning 
anything like a comfortable subsistence in Pittsburg, re- 
solved to go to Cincinnati, and by partially begging her 
way, she succeeded in getting there. But the difficulties 
of her position were by no means surmounted upon her 
arrival there. The same causes which combined to pre- 
vent her from accomplishing anything at the former 
place still followed her in the latter, and though in the 
hurry of military preparation, applicants for employment 
were by no means closely scrutinized, still her employment 
in every place she tried was but temporary. Her want of 
skill and physical strength caused her soon to be dis- 
charged to give place to those who could accomplish 
more than she could, though not more willing to do all 
within her power, and again she was reduced to the verge 
of starvation. 

For months, then, she endured all the wretchedness 
which had been her portion since her desertion by Myers. 
Sleeping in a miserable garret, often for days together, 


134 


ravenia; or. 


without a morsel of food, save what she could beg, and 
then again earning a mere trifle by the performance of 
the most menial tasks, while she wore none but the 
cheapest, poorest, and too often raggedest of clothes, her 
life was miserable indeed. And to have seen her pinched 
and bowed figure, surely no one would have recognized 
her as the lovely and happy Eavenia of former days, such 
fearful inroads had want and misery made upon her for- 
mer rare beauty. 

One day, impelled by absolute starvation, for she had 
eaten nothing for upwards of twenty-four hours, she was 
on the street for the purpose of begging the wherewith 
to procure a meal of victuals, when a gentleman in the 
uniform of a first lieutenant of the United States army 
passed by. Something in his open, generous countenance 
encouraged her to prefer her piteous suit to him, and as 
he turned to respond to her appeal, the glitter of a Mason- 
ic pin on his bosom attracted her attention. She had 
never thought of appealing to this noble fraternity before, 
but with the gleam of this jewel came a sudden thought 
that this was to redeem and save her. 

Pointing to the pin, she asked in tones of earnest, 
trembling eagerness : 

‘‘ Do you belong to that society ? 

I do,’’ replied the lieutenant, in some surprise, “ but 
why do you ask ? ” 

‘‘ I will tell you,” she replied, speaking rapidly and 
eagerly, while her eyes filling with tears and the tremb- 
ling of her voice told how deeply she was moved, ‘‘ the 
time was once when I had some claims upon that frater- 
nity. My father who died when I was a mere child 
was a Mason, and my adopted father, if he be yet alive, 
occupies an exalted possition in the same order.” 

“ What then,” he asked is ‘‘the meaning of your be- 
ing here, a beggar on the street ? ” 


THE OUTCAST KEDEEMED. 


135 


In answer to his astonished inquiry, she told him 
without reserve the history of her life for the past four 
years ; how she had been betrayed and deserted ; how her 
friends had cast her off and disowned her ; how she had 
struggled with poverty and wretchedness — in short, all 
with which the reader is familiar. 

Lieutenant heard her painful story with 

attentive interest. He was no mean judge of human 
nature, and he was convinced the girl spoke the truth ; 
while her appearence confirmed her narrative in the 
most emphatic manner. At its close he asked her where 
she lived. She blushed violenty at this question, for the 
remembrance of the miserable garrett where amid filth 
and vermin, she had found her wretched lodgings for 
the last few months, and the idea of calling a stranger 
there sent the warm blood to her cheek and tinged it 
with something of the beauty of former days, but which 
long years of misery had sadly faded. After a moment’s 
hesitation, however, she told him the street and number. 

‘‘ I will go with you there,” said he kindly, ‘‘ and we 
will see what can be done for you.” 

And drawing her arm within his own he led her 
away, never once heeding the smiles and wondering looks 
of the bystanders. For was he not obeying the Divine 
command to succor the poor and the needy, as well as 
fulfilling the precepts of the order of which he was a 
worthy member, and so long as he trod the path of duty, 
what cared he for the gibes and sneers of the world? 

But if he pited her upon hearing her story, how was 
his heart moved when he beheld the squalid misery by 
which she was surrounded in the miserable place she 
termed her lodgings ? It was utterly devoid of even the 
smallest comfort ; not a chair graced the room, while a 
pile of what had once been shoddy blankets, but which 
were now little better than rags, was the only apology 


136 


ravenia; or, 


for a bed, and a small tin wash basin and a piece of bro- 
ken looking glass fiirnisbed the only convenience for the 
toilet. 

The lieutenant looked around in unfeigned astonish- 
ment. 

“ And is this,” he asked, “ your only place of abode^ 
and these the only comforts you have ? ” 

“ For months this has been my only home,” she replied, 
weeping, as she contrasted her present situation with 
what it had been before her acquaintance with Myers. 

‘‘ You shall never come here again,” said the young 
officer, impulsively. I will go at once and procure a 
suitable boarding place for you until I can find a situa- 
tion where you can earn an honorable and comfortable 
livelihood.” 

‘‘ God will bless you and repay you for your kindness 
to one who is more than an orphan,” said Eavenia, fall- 
ing on her knees before him and bursting into tears of 
gratitude. “ May He reward you, for I never can.” 

‘‘ I ask no reward for simply doing my duty,” said he, 
his own eyes becoming suspiciously moist at the sight ol 
her emotion, and turning, he hastened away on his errand 
of mercy. 

In an hour he returned and told her he had secured 
temporary board for her with a poor but respectable fam- 
ily, who would furnish her plain but comfortable accom- 
modations until she could find employment suited to her. 

“ And now,” said he, “ let us leave this den forever.” 

She was too much overjoyed to hesitate, and in a few 
minutes she had left her wretched shelter, as she fondly 
hoped, forever. For, cruelly deceived and betrayed as 
she had once been, she still had confidence — the earnest, 
trusting confidence of a child — that her new found friend 
was really what he professed to be, a friend indeed; 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


137 


And the sequel proved that in this instance at least her 
confidence had not been misplaced. 

They soon reached her new home, and giving her 
some money to enable her to procure better apparel than 

the rags she now wore, Lieutenant left her, 

promising to call again in the evening. For somehow, 
his heart had been touched with a strange interest in the 
girl whom he had thus rescued from the very depths of 
poverty and wretchedness, and aside from doing his duty 
toward her, he desired to know more of her than he 
had thus far been able to learn. He felt certain she pos- 
sessed a warm, trusting, confiding heart and a refined, 
generous nature, which only required the magic touch of 
affection and kindness to develop her into a magnificent 
woman — one to whom any man might well pour out his 
heart’s choicest treasures. True, her life had been blighted 
and the horizon of her morning sky had been o’ercast 
with thick clouds by the arts of a villain, but still he be- 
lieved she was not past redemption, and once redeemed 
he felt that the devotion of her life would richly repay 
the one by whom that redemption should be effected. 

For about a week she remained at the boarding place 
which the kindness of her friend had provided for her, 
and at the end of that time one would have scarcely 
recognized her as the half starved wretch who accosted 

Lieutenant in the street. She was neatly though 

plainly clad, and the genial air of kindness had banished 
the haggard and care-worn appearance which then per- 
vaded her features, and she once more appeared something 
like her own former self. 

At last the lieutenant informed her that he had pro- 
cured a situation for her in a highly respectable family 
to do plain sewing and care for the children, at wages 
which would be sufficient to afford her a comfortable sup- 
port — that he had spoken to the lady of the house of her 
10 


138 


ravenia: or. 


as his sister, and that she must carry out the innocent 
deception. 

“ But after all,’’ said he, “ I am not sure that it is a 
deception, for are you not really and truly my sister ?” 

Eavenia was too thankful for her deliverance to refuse 
obedience to his slightest request, although, as the sequel 
proved, in this “ innocent deception,” as he termed it, 
was the germ of much future trouble and sorrow to her. 

Entering the carriage he had brought, they were driv- 
en to the residence of Mr. , a well known army 

-contractor. It was a fine, comfortable looking mansion, 
and Eavenia’s heart was elate with joy as she contrasted 
it with the miserable home she had lately occupied. 
Leaping out, the lieutenant assisted her to alight, and led 
her through the well laid out grounds to the door. 

“ Eemember,” whispered he as he rang the bell, ‘‘ you 
are my sister,” and the next moment she was introduced 
as such to the lady of the house. 

Eavenia did not really like her appearance. She was 
richly, but rather gaudily and showily dressed, while her 
manners and the tone of her conversation were those of 
a person who had not long been accustomed to good 
society, but rather of one who, having suddenly become 
wealthy, attached undue importance to the possession of 
the riches so suddenly acquired. In short she was one of 
the somewhat numerous class of the present day known 
as “ shoddy aristocracy.” From a small but shrewd 
and enterprising country merchant, her husband, by the 
immense profits of his army contracts — profits which too 
generally came out of the comfort and welfare of the 
poor men who were periling life and limb in defense of 
the country upon whose troubles he was fattening — had 
suddenly become an immense capitalist — one who counted 
his dollars by hundreds of thousands— and his wife fan- 
cied that the wearing of rich clothes, and the assumption 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


139 


of lordly airs were the only naeans of showing off her 
superiority to the poor creatures who were dependent 
upon the wages received from her for their daily bread. 
Such, alas ! for weak human nature, is too often the effect 
of suddenly acquired wealth and ease, the possessors for- 
getting that as their riches came in a moment, as it were, 
so a breath might sweep them away, and reduce them 
again to the level of poverty from which they had just 
escaped, and that after all, worth, not wealth, is the true 
criterion of merit. 

^Nevertheless she spoke kindly, in her way, to the 
girl, who was so soon to become her servant, and Rave- 
nia was too thankful for her deliverance to criticise too 
closely her new mistress. ’Tis true she told her compan- 
ion privately that she was not, by her appearance, very 
much prepossessed in her favor, but still she had no 
doubt she could get along very well with her, and noth- 
ing should induce her to thwart the plans he had formed 
for her redemption. “ It shall not be my fault,’’ she said, 
“ if I do not stay here until you direct otherwise.” 

For several days the lieutenant called to see her each 
evening, and then he told her his regiment was ordered 
to the seat of war, and he must leave her. She shed 
many tears at this announcement, and surely her conduct 
at parting was not such as to give the lie to the story he 

had told Mrs. relative to the relationship between 

himself and Ravenia. His kindness to her had so won 
upon her feelings that she could not have felt worse at 
parting with him had he been her own brother, and be- 
sides she felt some indefinable dread of evil again over- 
taking her when she should no longer have the protection 
of his influence, his strong will and his manly arm, and 
bitterly she wept as she clung to hi^i in that sad hour. 
But the stern mandate of duty was irresistible, and kissing 
her with all a brother’s warmth and fervor, he whispered 


140 


RA.VENIA; OR, 


to her to be of good cheer and all would yet he well ; told 
her to write him often, and hastened away to join his 
command which had already embarked on hoard a 
steamer for Nashville. 

For some time Eavenia got along very pleasantly in 
her new home. Her duties were not very onerous ; the 
entire family were kind to her in their way, and the three 
children, who were much of the time under her charge, 
soon learned to love her dearly, especially the youngest. 
The fiery furnace in which she had been tried had inten- 
sified the natural gentleness of her spirit, and made her 
seem to them more like an angel than a human being, 
and soon gave her an influence over them which never 
waned during the whole of her stay there. She heard 
constantly and regularly from her friend and benefactor, 
and she really felt as though her troubles were forever 
past. 

“Let no one call himself happy till death,” said 
Solon, and he said wisely. A period was approaching in 
the life of our heroine when the fair fabric of her present 
happiness was to be shattered at one fell blow — tempo- 
rary, perchance, it might be — but nevertheless the temple 
she had erected was to be laid in ruins. As yet the 
storm by which this destruction was to be effected gave 
not even the slightest muttered warning of its approach, 
but it was none the less surely coming. 

The first blow was a letter from the regiment to which 
her friend belonged, written in a strange hand, and con- 
veying the sad intelligence that he had received a wound 
which was by the surgeon pronounced fatal, and that he 
could probably survive but a few hours — a day or two at 
most. She looked at the date of the letter — it was more 
than a week old — aud he must even now be in his grave, 
and again she was alone in the wide, wide world, with 
no one whom she could call friend, or to whom she could 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


141 


turn for assistance in time of trouble. True he bad been 
far away from her almost ever since she had known him, 
but still she felt that there was a bond between them 
which united them to each other and upon which she 
could rely with the utmost confidence, but now he was 
gone, and alone and unaided she must fight the weary 
battle of life in the future, and she wept tears of sincere 
afi:ection and regret. 

But time in his flight brings healing to all, and so it 
was to poor Kavenia. Though she forgot not her friend 
and his kindness to her, nor ceased to mourn him with 
sincerest sorrow, her grief as a matter of course in time 
became less poignant, while the kindness of her employ- 
ers, and the affection with which the children soon 
learned to regard her did much to wean her from the 
contemplation of her grief. But a more fearful stroke 
was preparing for her ; one which for a time threatened 
to wreck forever her frail bark and cast her once more 
into the sea of misery from which she had so lately 
effected her escape. 

She had been about three months at Mrs. ’s 

house, when the incident to which allusion is made took 

place. Mrs. had some of her shoddy ” aristocratic 

friends taking tea with her, and among them was a gen- 
tleman by the name of Tompkins. A highly cultivated 
and intelligent lady, possessed of Bavenia’s natural refine- 
ment (which even the demoralizing life she had led had 
been unable to destroy), could find but little in common 
with the gay and somewhat boisterous party which filled 
Mrs. fe rooms, and hence, though llavenia was pres- 

ent for a time, she was very silent and reserved, and as 
soon as politeness would admit, she slipped away and 
sought the solitude of her own room. Arriving there 
she threw herself into an arm chair and was soon lost in 
a reverie from which, however, she was shortly roused 


142 


ravenia; or, 


by the violent throwing open of her door and the impet- 
uous entrance of Mrs. . Her countenance was 

flushed with anger, or some other violent passion, and 
her whole frame was quivering with excitement. So un- 
natural was her appearance that Ravenia for a time was 
unable to say a word, but rising in some alarm to her 
feet, she waited to hear what the lady had to say. And 
she had not long to wait. 

Advancing close to her she hissed : “ You are a pretty 
creature, are you not ? To think of your coming into a 
decent, respectable house from such a place as you did, 
and with your innocent, saintly face to palm yourself ofi* 
as a decent woman. For three months you have de- 
ceived us all, but I have found you out at last, and out of 
this house you go this very night. 

“What do you mean?” faintly murmured Ravenia, 
the blood standing still in her veins and a cold tremor 
passing over her from head to foot, for she saw at once, 
as she imagined, an end to all her hopes of salvation. 

“ Oh ! yes. It is all very well for you to play inno- 
cent, and pretend you do iiot know what I mean. It is 
all of a piece, and it won’t do now. Pack up your traps, 
I tell you, and be off,” 

“ But first tell me of what you accuse me,” said Ra- 
venia, though her heart told her all too truly what was 
the cause of this attack. 

“ You impudent hussy,” replied the woman, “ to ask 
of what you are accused. You know very well what it 
is. Tell me, did you not live at Pittsburgh with a man 
by the name of Myers, and did you not come, after no- 
body knows what other disgraceful scenes, to my house 
to impose upon us with your lie about being Lieutenant 
’s sister ? His mistress you should have said, I sup- 
pose. A pretty story for you to tell. 

In her blind rage she had forgotten that Ravenia was 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


143 


■not the author of the deception, but that the lieutenant, 
who was quite a favorite of her’s, was the responsible 
party. But this unmerited taunt, and the implied attack 
upon the character of her deceased friend, aroused in 
Eavenia something of the spirit of combativeness, and 
her voice was firmer and steadier when she again spoke. 

‘‘ What you say about myself, madam, is true — what 

you say about my deceased friend. Lieutenant , is 

not,’’ she replied. “ That I lived with Myers at the place 
you mentioned is true; but it is not true that I ever sus- 
tained any degrading or disgraceful relation to that brave 
soldier and true, noble man. W e met by accident ; he 
learned my wretched, suffering condition, and adopting 
me as his sister, placed me in a position to earn an hon- 
est and honorable livelihood by the labor of my own 
hands. This was the whole of our relationship to each 
other, and I will not tamely submit to have his memory 
slandered, whatever may be my merits or demerits. He 
at least is above reproach, and could he burst the bounds 
of the grave in which his mangled remains now lie 
moldering, his lips would confirm every word I have 
uttered.” 

But not even this eloquent defense could touch the 
stony heart of the weakly, proud woman who stood be- 
fore her. She was destitute of all those fine feelings and 
sensibilities which thrill in the heart of a truly refined 
woman, and she could think of nothing but the disgrace 
which she imagined had been heaped upon her. 

“ But what could have induced you to come and im- 
pose upon me in such a way ? ” she asked. 

I came,” replied Eavenia, pathetically, “ because he 
asked me to, and because I knew not what else to do. I 
had been deceived and led into sin and shame — I had for 
years been upon the brink of starvation, and desired to 
escape from it, and when the means were offered what 


144 


ravenia; or, 


could I do but avail myself of them ? And since I came 
here I defy any one to show that I have deviated in the 
slightest particular from the life he would have had me ‘ 
lead. Is it not so?’’ 

“Hew do I know what you have done?” said the 
woman, roughly. “ I onl^ know that you have lied to 
me, and you must leave here this very night.” 

“ But can I not stay till morning ? ” asked Bavenia, 
in a choking voice, for she could not but remember an 
incident almost identical with this which occurred three 
years before, and the consequences of which had been so 
disastrous to her. 

“Ho, you cannot. If you are not out of the house in 
one hour I will have you put out by the police,” replied 
the woman, rudely, as she banged the door and went 
down stairs. 

“ God in Heaven, have mercy upon me ! ” said Ba- 
venia, as soon as she was alone. “ Am I never to escape 
from the dreadful consequences of my sins ? Is there no 
hope for such as I ? ” 

And with this piteous wail of an almost breaking 
heart she set about making her preparations to leave, 
and in less than the time allowed her by the tyrant cruelty 
of her late employer she had become a homeless wanderer 
in the streets of Cincinnati. 

But the reader will ask how Mrs. became ac- 

quainted with her character. The explanation is simple 
and easy. Among her guests was a weak eyed young 
man of great wealth, but whose brain was as void of ideas 
as is the exhausted receiver of an air-pump, and whose 
principal avocation consisted of cultivating a sickly-look- 
ing sandy mustache, every hair of which, in spite of pom- 
ade, persisted in standing in its own peculiar direction, 
and searching the city over for the latest style of unmen- 
tionables — who gave much more attention to the fit of 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


145 


his coat than he did to the troubles and dangers which 
were at this time convulsing our unhappy country. His 
feeble brain gave him just sufficient interest to appreciate 
Ravenia’s beauty, and he had during the evening made 
some advances to her which were quietly and in the most 
lady-like manner rejected. When she withdrew from the 

room he hastened to Mrs. to make inquiries about 

her. That lady was at the moment in conversation with 
Tompkins, who as soon as he heard the inquiry, burst 
into a loud and ill-mannered laugh. 

“ That,’’ said he “ is a girl that used to live at Pitts- 
burg with a man by the name of Myers, who passed her 
off as his wife till he got tired of and left her. I think, 

my dear Mrs. , servants must be very scarce when 

you have to employ such as she is.” 

“ Are you sure of what you say ? ” demanded the 
lady, “ because if you are, she leaves this house this very 
hour. I don’t keep that kind of stock about my house.” 

“ Sure of it ! of course I am, and if you ask her she 
won’Pdare to deny it,” said the young man in the free- 
and-easy style characteristic of the class to which he 
belonged. 

That is enough for me,” said the woman, and leaving 
the room she ascended to that of Ravenia to enact the 
scene we have portrayed; and having thus performed an 
act of cruelty and hard-heartedness over which angels 
might weep and demons rejoice ; having done what lay in 
her power to insure the destruction of the poor unfortunate 
who sought to escape by her own exertions from the cess- 
pool of wretchedness and possible infamy into the higher 
and purer atmosphere of peace and happiness ; having, 
as she thought, demonstrated her devotion to refinement 
and good breeding by thrusting back the poor wretch in- 
to the world of woe she had just left, she descended to her 
parlor to chatter silly nonsense with and smile upon the 


146 


ravenia; or, 


young man who, by his own confession, was an associate # 
of those upon the bare suspicion of being one of whom 
she had just indulged in such bitter reviling and denun- 
ciation of the unfortunate Eavenia. ‘‘ Oh ! consistency, 
thou art a jewel.’’ Oh ! shame where is thy blush, when 
woman in the same moment condemns with scorn and 
and loathing the destroyed of her own sex, and smiles 
upon and caresses the destroyer. 

Turn we again to poor Eavenia, For a time she 
stood almost stupefied with horror at her situation. 
Again she was alone and friendless in the streets of a 
large city,anentire stranger destitute even of a shelter from 
the storm which was threatening to burst over the earth, 
and for a brief space she stood undecided what to do. 
The muttering thunder warned her that delay was danger- 
ous, and leaving her trunk where it was, she set out in 
search of a stopping place. She might have gone to a 
hotel, but this, situated as she was, would have been but 
to invite suspicion and perhaps subject her to indignities 
she would gladly avoid, and so, weary and heart-sick she 
set out in search of some other shelter. 

But now all doors seemed shut against her. The mere 
announcement of her situation was sufiScient to cause 
cold and averted looks, and in one or two instances she 
was repulsed with bitter and angry words and eveh» 
threats of being given in charge of the police. At 
length, wearied out, sick and despairing, and with scarcely 
a hope of escape from the fate which ’ seemed to 
beckon her onward to perdition, she turned her halting 
footsteps in the direction of the river whose darkly roll- 
ing waves would afford her at least that which seemed 
denied her elsewhere — a shelter from the storm which 
already began to beat upon her, and an escape from the 
misery which alone seemed her portion. 

But relief was at hand. Passing on her way a com- 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


147 


fortable looking cottage, whose every aspect indicated it 
as the abode of peace and plenty, she suddenly resolved 
to make one more effort to escape from the doom impend- 
ing over her, and mounting the steps she rang the bell. 
The door was opened by a middle aged lady of benevo- 
lent aspect, from every feature of whose countenance 
beamed the holy light of contentment and goodness, such 
as can only be imparted by the gentle influence of the 
Son of God upon the human heart. 

The moment her eyes fell upon the wet and shiver- 
ing figure before her, her heart told her that here was a 
case for the exercise of that benevolence and charity 
which had been the pole-star ot her life, and without a 
word of inquiry as to who or what she was, she bid Ea- 
venia enter. Conducting her to the sitting room where 
blazed a comfortable fire of wood, she bade her be seated 
and then waited for her guest to speak. For a short 
time Eavenia was silent; a choking sensation at her 
throat prevented her from speaking, then raising her eyes 
to the beaming face of her hostess, she said : 

“ You see before you, madam, a homeless wanderer, 
who in all this great city has not one single friend and 
knows not where to go for shelter, and who begs of you 
a stopping place till morning.” 

“No one ever appeals in vain to me for shelter, espe- 
cially on such a night as this,” replied the lady, kindly. 
“ But your clothes are wet — you must allow me to re- 
move these and bring you others, and then you must 
have a cup of tea. I know from your looks that you are 
weary, and a cup of tea will refresh you. Jane,” to a 
domestic who was sewing in one corner of the room, 
“ will you go and make a strong cup of tea for the lady ?” 

Such unexpected kindness from a total stranger quite 
overcame poor Eavenia. Bursting into tears, she said : 


148 


eavenia; or, 


“ But, madam, you know not to whom you extend so 
much of kindness.” 

‘‘ I know,” replied the woman, “ that you are poor 
and destitute, homeless and hungry, and that the Master 
has commanded us to minister to the wants and necessi- 
ties of such. And further than this I ask not.” 

‘‘But,” said Eavenia, “ you must know all, and when 
you have heard my story, turn me into the street if you 
will, as so many have done before you. I cannot be the 
recipient of such unmerited kindness without at least tell- 
you upon whom it is bestowed.” 

“ Well, well,” said the good lady, playfully and kind- 
ly, “ too much talking is not good for one as weary as 
you are. Wait until you have been refreshed with a cup 
of J ane’s tea, and then if you will you shall tell me your 
story,” and hastening to a closet in one corner of the 
room she brought dry clothing for which she obliged 
Eavenia, in spite of her remonstrances, to change her 
own wet and soiled garments. By the time her toilet 
was made and she had returned to the sitting room, Jane 
brought in a very comfortable lunch, to which she did 
ample justice, despite the emotion which filled her heart, 
while her kind hostess sat by and served her with as 
much apparent zest as though she had been her dearest 
and most intimate friend. 

When her repast was concluded and J ane took away 
the tea things, Eavenia proceeded to tell her story in brief 
to her kind benefactress, not sparing herself or extenua- 
ting faults in the slightest degree. Her hostess listened in 
silence, only occasionally asking some explanation of mat- 
ters which she did not fully comprehend. And when the 
sad, sad story was finished, and Eavenia had told of her 
almost despair, her meditated suicide which she was 
actually on the way to consummate when attracted by 
the bright light shining from her windows, she gently 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


149 


drew the weeping girl’s head upon her bosom, while she 
murmured : 

‘‘ Poor child, 'yours has been a sad lot in life. But I 
will aid you in your struggle with the world. You shall 
remain here at least until morning, and then we will see- 
what can he done.” 

How grandly does the simple Christian benevolence- 
of this woman contrast with the heartless conduct of Mrs. 

. The latter was the slave of pride, avarice and 

fashion — the other, the consistent follower of the Savior 
of mankind. Say, dear reader, which manifested the 
most sincere devotion to holiness and virture — the one 
who thrust poor Eavenia out into the street with a 
Pharisaical, “Stand aside, I am more holy than thou,” or 
the other one who took her in and said, “ Come, I will 
assist you to regain your lost footing in the world?” 
Which did most toward accomplishing her reformation 2 ' 
And above all, which was most likely to be commended 
by the Father ? 


150 


ravenia; or, 


CHAPTER Xiri. 

When Ravenia awoke the next morning she could 
scarcely realize for a time where she was. The events of 
the preceding night seemed to her only like some hor- 
rible dream, and yet everything seemed so strange to her 
that she hardly knew what to think. But soon it all 
occurred clearly to her mind, and she wept tears of joy and 
thankfulness to “ Him who watches the sparrows as they 
fall.” And then she fell into a sort of reverie from which 
she was soon aroused by a gentle tap at the door, and the 
next moment her kind hostess entered the room. 

Mrs. Weston (for that was her name) kindly inquired 
how she had rested, and told her that breakfast would 
soon be ready — then left her to make her toilet, and 
returned to the kitchen to superintend in person the fin- 
ishing touches of the morning meal. 

The family of this estimable lady consisted of herself, 
her husband, who was a thrifty retail merchant on Pearl 
street, two sons, both of whom were doing gallant service 
in defense of their country, and three girls, the eldest 
of whom was thirteen years of age. One, a son, was 
quietly sleepiug in a shady nook of the old cemetery, 
whither his parents with bitter tears, but with hopeful 
confidence of being reunited with him at the last day, 
had laid him four years before. Ravenia had seen none 
of the family the evening before, the husband being 
absent on business and the children in their beds when 
she came. And it was with no little trepidation that she 
descended to the dining room to meet them for the first 
time. But Mr. Weston was in spirit the worthy coun- 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


151 


terpart of his noble wife, and he treated her with such 
unaffected kindness that she was soon quite at her ease, 
and her heart, which hut a few hours before was almost 
bursting with its load of anguish, overflowed with thank- 
fulness to the good Being who had guided her wander- 
ing footsteps to such a pleasant place. 

After breakfast she had a long conversation with Mrs. 
Weston, the result of which was that she was engaged in 
her family in the same capacity she had occupied at Mrs. 

’s — as a seamstress and sort of governess for the 

children. Mrs. Weston had for some time been looking 
out for some one to All this station, and Ravenia’s evi- 
dent reflnement, and earnest desire to do some good in 
the world convinced the good lady that her children 
would be safe in her charge. And to the credit of all 
parties be it said that during all the time she was an in- 
mate of the family, Mrs. Weston never had the least 
occasion to repent her action in this matter. 

Eighteen months of peace and comparative happiness 
now passed over the head of our storm-tossed heroine. 
In the calm retirement of Mrs. Weston’s home she found 
shelter from the bitter blasts which had so long assailed 
her, and but for the memory of the sorrowful past, she 
would have been perfectly happy. True, it was never 
alluded to in the most distant manner, but still the 
memory of it rankledT in her breast and caused her many 
a silent fear of anguish. 

Allusion has already been made to her rare beauty, 
and with the calmness of her present life, her loveliness, 
which had been somewhat impaired by the sorrows she 
had endured, returned in all its beaming freshness. 

Retiring as was her disposition, Ravenia could not at 
all times avoid meeting company at Mrs. Weston’s, for 
though not in the upper ten of fashion, Mrs. Weston had 
many friends who were attracted to her by her sterling 


152 


bavenia; or, 


good sense and her well known purity and kindness of 
heart. And with the society that frequented her house, 
Eavenia’s intelligence, vivacity and refinement soon made 
her quite a favorite. She had many invitations to go 
into society, but she invariably declined them, but with 
such kindness as, instead of offending, seemed but to en- 
dear her still more to those who were thus disappointed. 

Among those who most frequented Mrs. Weston’s 
house, was a young gentleman whom we will call Gus 

. He was a grocer and produce dealer on Market 

street, and was well known as a most promising young 
man, of a high order of business talent, and of uncom- 
promising honesty. That he was at times somewhat 
eccentric, and a little inclined to change his opinions in 
minor matters upon grounds which a person of cooler 
and less impulsive temperament would have deemed, per- 
haps, hardly sufficient, were not deemed sufficient to con- 
demn him with those who knew his native goodness of 
heart, and the steadfastness with which he had adhered 
to all the cardinal principles of honesty and morality. 

Meeting Ravenia one evening, a few weeks after she 
she had become a member of Mr^. Weston’s family, he 
was at once deeply impressed by her beauty, and upon a 
closer acquaintance, her intelligence and good sense com- 
pleted the conquest which the charms of her person had 
commenced. From this time he was untiringly assidu- 
ous in his efforts to cultivate and improve the acquaint- 
ance which chance had thus begun, and though Ravenia 
was far from affording him'any encouragement in his 
advances, he still persevered in his pursuit with an 
energy which knew no such word as failure, and yet with 
a delicacy which she could not but appreciate and admire, 
and for which she was truly grateful to him. 

Some one has said that ‘‘ love is born of gratitude,” 
and the constancy and earnestness with which “Gus” 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


153 


pursued his suit could not fail to make some impression 
upon the heart of Ravenia, and struggle against it as she 
might, all too soon came the secret consciousness that 
her regard for him was not merely that dictated hy 
friendship, but that a warmer and tenderer emotion min- 
gled with the sentiment with which ‘she greeted him. 
Mrs. Weston, meantime, had learned to love Ravenia 
almost as her own daughter (as in one sense she might 
almost he considered), and her high estimation of “ Gus ” 
led her to regard with the utmost complacency, and, in- 
deed, with a good degree of secret satisfaction, the ten- 
derness which she imagined was growing up between 
them. Not that she enacted in any sense the part of a 
match-maker between them ; her good sense and sterling 
worth would not permit this ; but feeling as she did the 
highest regard for both, believing fully and firmly in the 
sincerity of Ravenia’s repentance and reformation ; be- 
lieving also that their characters were admirably adapted 
to add to each other’s happiness, she was well content to 
let events take their course, hoping and believing from 
what she daily witnessed, that the result would in time 
be all that she could wish. 

Ravenia, meantime, was undergoing a severe struggle 
between duty and inclination. On the one hand was 
the blackness of the horrid past, of which she was well 
aware that “Gus” was ignorant, and of which she felt 
that duty required her to apprize him in some way, 
while on the other, in addition to the natural timidity 
with which she shrank from the dread revelation, was 
the fear that when her sad story was known to him it 
would result in driving him in disgust from her side for- 
ever — an event which could not fail to be a still further 
blighting of her happiness, for, as already intimated, his 
gentle perseverance and apparent steadfastness of pur- 
pose had awakened the tenderer feelings of her heart, 
11 


154 


ravenia; or, 


and taught her to love him. For a long time she thus 
hovered between inclination on the one side and what 
she felt to be duty to him on the other. hTo word of love 
had as yet passed his lips, but still his feelings had been 
manifested in various ways which could not be mistaken, 
and several times 'Ravenia had resolved to tell him all, 
but as often when the moment of revelation came, she 
shrank with shame from the painful exposure, and so 
matters went on. 

But a crisis was approaching which would admit of 
no further postponement. One evening he called while 
Mrs. Weston was out, and was received by Ravenia alone 
in the family sitting room. It was just at the twilight of 
a pleasant summer’s eve, when all nature is at peace, and 
when the spirit of mankind is insensibly mellowed and 
subdued into harmony with its surroundings. It is upon 
just such occasions that our tenderest emotions and feel- 
ings exert their most powerful influence ; when stormy 
and turbulent passions are allayed by the heavenly quiet 
of the scene, and discord and contention have no abiding 
place in the human heart. What hour so meet as this 
for a declaration of love ? So ‘‘ Gus ” thought, and 
when at his entrance Ravenia arose to light the gas (she 
had been silently communing with her own thoughts as 
the shades of night slowly settled down around her) he 
stopped her by saying : 

“ Fray, Miss Bay, do not. Hever mind the lights, 
but sit down and hear what I have to say.” 

Ravenia complied with his request, and without a 
word seated herself trembling upon the sofa, for her heart 
told her what was coming, and she knew that the exposi- 
tion she so much desired and yet dreaded to make could 
no longer be deferred. 

Seating himself by her side, he poured forth his tale 
of love. In words made eloquent by depth and intensity 


THE OUTCAST KEDEEMED. 


155 


of feeling he told her how he had loved her from the 
hour of his first introduction to her ; how each interview 
with her had hut added to the intensity of the feeling 
which the first meeting had awakened in his bosom ; how 
fervent his love had become and how true it should prove, 
and wound up by asking her to become his wife. 

And how did poor Eavenia receive this impassioned 
harangue? For a single instant the most fiery joy 
thrilled her heart — then the remembrance of the awful 
revelation to be made sent the blood curdling back to her 
heart, and burying her face in her hands, while the hot 
tears forced themselves through her fingers, she listened 
in silent agony to his story — that story so oft repeated, 
and yet ever new, and ever interesting alike to speaker 
and hearer. But when his tale was finished, and attempt- 
ing to take her hand, he pressed her for an answer, she 
raised her tear-wet face to his and said : 

“ I cannot deceive you. You know not what you ask. 
But listen to my story — a revelation of sorrow and sin 
and degradation, of which had you any conception, th^t 
to which I have just listened had been left unsaid.’^ 

And then she told him all without reserve or conceal- 
ment. She made no efibrt to extenuate or conceal any 
fault upon her own part, but took upon herself the full 
measure of all the blame which rested upon her, and 
when she had finished her sad story, she said : 

“ Now you have the history of my life — go and forget 
me.^’ 

She spoke this in a tone of such hopeless woe, and with 
such an expression of utter despair upon her countenance 
as to touch the very bottom of his heart, and passing his 
arm around her waist he said tenderly ; 

‘‘ Say not so, Eavenia, bid me not go and forget you, 
for the last were an impossibility. What have we to 
do with the past ? Let it be forever forgotten. True, it 


156 


ravbnia; or, 


is sad enough, but your candor and frankness in comuni- 
cating it to me but increase if possible my esteem and 
affection for you. Let us not look to the past — the pres- 
ent and future are all with which we have to do. Say, 
Eavenia, will you be my wife ? 

“ But,” replied Eavenia, have you considered well 
all the consequences of what you ask ? You have friends 
and relations who would, perhaps, and very justly so, con- 
sider themselves degraded to a certain extent by any rela- 
tion you might assume to me.” 

“ I have considered all I desire to,” he replied with 
some impetuosity. ‘‘ I repeat, we have nothing to do 
with the past — the future I am willing to trust with you, 
and with no one else — my friends will love, respect and 
esteem you, not only because you are my wife, but be- 
cause of your own worth. Shall it he so ? ” 

Eavenia replied not in words — her heart was too full, 
but she dropped her head upon his shoulder and their lips 
met in the first warm kiss of love. He was answered. 
The poor, tired, storm-tossed spirit had found a haven 
of rest and peace at last. 

When Mrs. Weston returned “ Gus” took his leave, 
and she and Eavenia were left alone, the children having 
already retired. The good lady saw from the fiush 
which rested upon the cheek of her protege, and the 
unwonted sparkle of her eye, that something more than 
ordinarily exciting to her had taken place, and she was 
not at all surprised when Eavenia gave her an account of 
the scene which had been enacted in her absence, for her 
close observation had fully prepared her for it. And to 
say that she was pleased with the assurance that the 
hopes she had long indulged regarding the future of the 
unfortunate girl to whom she had been so true a friend, 
were now about to be realized, would but faintly express 
her feelings upon the subject. As she expressed it to her 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


157 


husbandj^ “ everything had turned out just as she wished, 
and she was sure they would be just as happy as they 
deserved to be, and she could not wish them anything 
better than that.” 

As for Ravenia she was as happy in her newly formed 
relations as any one could be expected to be who, after a 
long course of unmitigated suffering and sorrow, was at 
last freed from the burden which had so long weighed 
them down, and emerged into the pure sunlight of hap- 
piness and rest. The noble conduct of her betrothed in 
regard to her past history, had touched her heart with a 
deeper feeling of devotion to him than she had before 
known, and now she would have died ere she would have 
done an act or thought a thought which could possibly 
wound his noble nature. To her the future appeared 
clad in roseate colors, and she resolutely turned her back 
upon the bitter past as upon some frightful dream which 
could mar her happiness no more forever. Poor child ! 
she could not foresee the sorrows which were still in 
store for her, and were to turn the now bright appearing 
future into days of sorrow and nights of weeping. 


158 


•ravenia; or, 


CHAPTEK XIV. 

But though “ Gus ’’ had been thus successfully press- 
ing his suit, the reader must not suppose that he was the 
only admirer whom the beauty and intelligence of Ka- 
venia had attracted to her side, and not a few of the 
young friends of Mrs. Weston had sought to ingratiate 
themselves in her good graces, but with quiet grace and 
dignity she repelled them all. There was one among 
them, however, who, inasmuch as he will he in some de- 
gree connected with Pavenia’s future, demands a more 
particular notice. 

Francis Wills was a young physician who, after grad- 
uating at one of the best medical institutions of the 
country, had opened an office, and, ostensibly at least, 
gone into practice in the town of Kennettsville, in the 
State of Ohio. But, though well read and of good judg- 
ment and discretion, practice came but slowly to the 
young doctor, and being alone in the world, without 
means, friends or influence, he was rapidly becoming dis- 
heartened and almost ready to abandon his profession in 
despair, when our mighty civil war broke out and at 
once absorbed every emotion of all ranks and classes of 
society. Intelligent, patriotic and unselfish, it was hut 
natural that our young graduate should espouse with all 
the ardor of his nature the cause of true freedom, good 
government and law and order, as against the misguided 
and criminally wicked rebels of the South. And in one 
of the earliest three years regiments from the gallant 
State of Ohio, he enlisted as a private. In this capacity 
he served for some time, until the attention of his colonel 
was attracted by the skillful manner in which he dressed 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


159 


the wound and staunched the otherwise speedily fatal 
flow of blood from the neck of a comrade, shot down by 
his side in a brisk skirmish with the enemy. Upon in- 
quiry that officer ascertained his status at home, and as 
the army was then sufiering for want of sufficient medical 
officers, he procured his appointment as assistant sur- 
geon, with the rank of flrst lieutenant. In due time he 
was assigned to the charge of one of the numerous hos- 
pitals in Cincinnati, and was occupying that position at 
the time of his introduction to Eavenia. 

But a short time had elapsed after forming her ac- 
quaintance until the young surgeon made her an ofier of 
his hand and heart ; but though he urged his suit with all 
the ardor and impetuosity of his warm nature, his pro- 
posals were flrmly rejected, but yet with such kindness 
as, instead of embittering him, to convert him into a de- 
voted friend ; and after his rejection he still continued to 
visit her, though well understanding that her determin- 
ation was irrevocable and his suit hopeless, while with 
rare good sense, generosity and manliness, he never 
alluded to the subject in any manner whatever; and 
when he learned that “ Gus ’’ had been more fortunate 
than himself, he was among the flrst to congratulate his 
rival upon his success, and no one who knew his character 
for a moment doubted the sincerity and genuineness of 
his congratulations, however much he might have wished 
her choice had fallen upon himself instead of another. 

But in the mighty web of time flgures and scenes are 
constantly shifting, and now was unrolling for our hero- 
ine a dark and gloomy picture — one which was for a time 
to change entirely the aspect of her life. Her betrothed, 
though accounted a careful and correct business man, 
suddenly failed; his property, the reward of all his care 
and toil, was swept away in an hour as it were; and 
whereas he had been accounted worth his thousands, he 


160 


ravenia; or, 


was at once found to be hopelessly bankrupt. The most 
inconsistent and contradictory rumors as to the cause of 
the failure were at once put in circulation. By some it 
was attributed to the dishonesty of a defaulting book- 
keeper; others said it was owing to the capture and 
destruction by the rebels of a vessel, a large part of whose 
cargo was consigned to him — while others attributed it 
to other causes. In one thing, however, all were agreed : 
that the wreck was complete, and that it was not owing 
to any fault of his. So convinced were his creditors of 
his good faith in the matter, that they offered him every 
possibility to resume business upon the most favorable 
terms; but to this his proud spirit would not consent. 
No, he would give up everything to pay his debts; would 
go to Idaho, and amid its inexhaustible gold fields, would 
seek once more to regain the position in the commercial 
world which he had lost. It was a gigantic undertaking, 
but he was not the man to shrink from its fulfillment. 

The most painful feature of the programme was, that 
it involved his separation from Ravenia for a long time ; 
how long the great Disposer of all human events could 
alone foretell, even if it were permitted them ever to 
meet again. She was in an agony of tears at the thought 
of being separated from him under such dread uncertain- 
ties, and yet she entered fully into the noble spirit which 
prompted the dangerous journey, and she strove not to 
dissuade him from his purpose. 

At length his arrangements were fully completed; 
every dollar of his property had been scrupulously 
applied to the payment of his debts, and with a light 
purse but strong arms and stout heart, he joined a small 
party of emigrants bound for the land of gold, fully 
determined, amid the rock-ribbed fastnesses of its ever- 
lasting mountains, to hew out a fortune for himself and 
the loved one he was leaving behind. The parting with 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


161 


his betrothed was a sad and sorrowful one. She clung 
to him and wept as though her heart would break, while 
he, strong man though he was, and “ unused to the 
melting mood,’^ felt his own eyes grow moist and dim as 
he clasped her in his arms and imprinted upon her lips, 
perchance, the last kiss. 

Many were the vows of faith and constancy which in 
that last hour they exchanged ; numerous the promises 
to write to each other, at least as often as every week ; 
and when the time allowed him before the departure of 
the train which was to bear him from her side had 
elapsed, it was still just as hard to part as ever. But the 
imperious demands of time and fortune admit no delay, 
and straining her in one last convulsive grasp to his 
throbbing bosom, he hastened from the house, and in a 
moment was seated in the carriage and whirling away to 
the depot, while poor Ravenia sought her room and wept 
as though the last friend she had on earth was taken 
from her. 

And what of Francis Wills during this hour of sad- 
ness to the lovers ? It cannot be said that he rjsjoiced at 
the necessity which demanded their separation, and yet 
it cannot be denied that there sprung up in his heart a 
sort of thrill of hope that in some way his suit might be 
advanced by the absence of “ Gus.’’ He kept repeating 
to himself the hackneyed phrase that ‘‘ absence conquers 
love,” and patiently waited for this all potent agent to 
produce some change in the heart of Ravenia, when he 
designed to once more renew his suit for her hand. 

But time passed away and no change seemed to have 
come over the spirit of her dream. For the first few 
weeks after “ Gus’s ” departure, his letters continued to 
arrive with the utmost regularity, all breathing the same 
spirit of true devotion and filled with bright hopes and 
anticipations of the future; sentiments which found a 


162 


ravenia; or, 


ready echo in her heart and in the responses which she^ 
from time to time, dispatched to him. And still the 
patient, devoted surgeon waited, believing that the time 
would yet come when constancy such as his must meet 
with its just reward, and his high hopes be crowned 
with success. 

In time the letters from the wanderer grew to be less 
frequent, and were perceptibly shorter. This was doubt- 
less owing to the lack of facilities for writing and mailing 
letters; but the intense and earnest love of Ravenia 
demanded nothing short of the fullest return, and she 
refused to admit the mitigating circumstances. There is 
perhaps no single passion of the human heart so difficult 
to fully satisfy as earnest, all-absorbing love; none which 
demands so much from its object, or forgives so little of 
dereliction. This may seem questionable to my readers, 
but I believe a little reflection will convince the most 
skeptical of its truth. True and earnest love induces its 
possessor to forgive almost anything in its object, so long 
only as that which requires forgiveness indicates no want 
of love upon the part of the individual requiring to be 
forgiven. But let the conduct of that individual be of 
such a nature as to indicate that the deep, earnest love 
which has gone out to him has met with no return; let 
his conduct in short be such as to excite the jealousy of 
that other, and then acts of themselves totally insignifl- 
cant are magnified into events of the mightiest import. 
It may be said that this is simply jealousy and not love, 
and to this the obvious and indisputable reply is, that 
jealousy in the sense in which it is here used is but one 
of the natural off- shoots of deep, impassioned love. 

Time passed, but brought no change to the apparently 
forsaken Ravenia. The letters of her betrothed still 
made their appearance less and less frequently, and 
finally ceased altogether. In vain she watched the arrival 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


16 B 


of each successive mail, and earnestly prayed for somo 
communication, if only to tell her she was forgotten or 
altogether abandoned ; but still the silence remained alt 
unbroken, and Mrs. Weaver, who was in E-avenia’s confi- 
dence, was pained and shocked beyond measure, to mark 
the inroads which her fearful suspense was making upon 
her naturally delicate constitution. She smiled but sel- 
dom ; her eyes were red and swollen as with constant 
weeping; her face became haggard and her form thin 
and bent as if with the weight of years. In the few 
months since his departure an age seemed to have passed 
over her. At last Mrs. Weston determined to keep silent 
no longer upon the subject which she well knew was 
killing Ravenia, and she thus addressed her: 

“ Ravenia, my dear, I have observed your grief for 
sometime, and know that it is killing you by inches. I 
know too, by my own experience, how much the genuine 
sympathy of one true friend will do towards relieving^ 
the weight of such a burden as now oppresses your heart. 
That I am such a friend to you, I know you will do mo 
the justice to believe, and I ask that you let me share 
your burden, and if possible relieve some portion of it& 
crushing weight.” 

‘‘ That you are my true friend, my more than mother,”* 
replied the girl, bursting into tears, “ I know full well. 
Your treatment of me proves it by the most indubitable 
evidence, but my grief is not to be assuaged by the means 
you propose. It lies too deep for that.” 

. “But tell me,” persisted Mrs. Weston, kindly, “where- 
in lies the peculiarity of your sorrow. That it grows out 
of the apparent desertion and faithlessness of ‘ Gus,’ I 
am well aware, and yet, painful as it is to be thus de- 
ceived by one whom we have implicitly trusted, I cannot 
think that these peculiarities exist any where save in your 
own imagination. Tell me all, will you not, my dear 


164 


ravenia; or. 


-child ? ’’ And as she spoke she passed her arm tenderly 
around the girl’s waist and drew her head upon her 
bosom. 

“ It is not so much the probable desertion,” replied 
Ravenia, as the horrible uncertainty attending the mat- 
ter. That it is that is killing me. I know not whether he be 
living or dead, or if living, what can be the cause of his 
silence. That he has forgotten our plighted vows I feel 
fully assured, but have no idea of the cause of his faithless- 
ness. Do you suppose, she continued in a whisper, as if 
fearful of the sound of her own voice, “ that it can be 
anything in my past history which has caused the change 
in his feelings ?” 

‘‘ IS’o, I can hardly think so,” replied Mrs. Weston, 
“ he knew it all before he went away, did he not ? ” 

“Yes, I imparted all to him as fully as to you before 
our engagement was formed, and he declared himself as 
fully satisfied as did you, my kind benefactress ; and now 
I know not what to think of his apparent duplicity, and 
this uncertainty is the most painful of all.” 

“ But why do you think he has deserted you ? may 
you not be mistaken in this ?” 

“ I have tried to persuade myself that my suspicions 
were groundless, until all hope has departed. For some 
time after he went away, I received letters every week, 
as you are aware, warm, loving and tender as was his 
language while here ; then a longer time would elapse be- 
tween the arrival of his missives, while they would be 
shorter, and a spirit of coolness more easily felt than de- 
scribed seemed to pervade them until at last they ceased 
altogether, and now it has been months — to me it seems 
ages — since I have heard a word from him. Oh, if I 
only knew he was dead I could endure it, but this dread- 
ful suspense,” and the poor girl shuddered in her strong 
agony. 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


165 


Mrs. Weston knew not what to say. She fully ap- 
preciated the anguish which convulsed the frame of the 
fair girl beside her; she felt in her inmost soul that ho 
whom Ravenia had learned to love with all the intensity* 
of her nature, had proven false and was unworthy of that 
love, and she was too truthful to delude her with false 
hopes, or to endeavor to impart comfort and consolation 
when she felt that none really existed. For a time she 
sat silent and perplexed, and then she said in a low tone : 

“ Can you not rise above the bitterness of this disap-^ 
pointment ? Forget the false one and be again your own 
true and noble self?’’ 

“ It is easy to say forget, but it is a hard thing ta 
do when one has loved as I love him,” replied Ravenia. 
“ He has become a part of my very life and being; an 
ingredient of my soul, and to bid me forget him is like 
bidding me pluck away a part of my very self. It is in 
vain to ask it — I cannot do it.” 

‘‘ But it is the only way,” persisted her kind friend. 
“ It is not womanly, or just to yourself or your sex, thus 
to pine away for the sake of one who evidently cares 
nothing for you, and who has proven false to every vow ; 
be true to yourself, if he is not, and cast him out from 
your very thoughts.” 

‘‘ Ravenia made no reply. She knew that what her 
friend had said was the truth, and that it was due to her- 
self to cast out the image of him who had proven him- 
self so unworthy the love of a true and noble woman, and 
she inwardly resolved that she would tear his image from 
her heart, even though in the effort its every fibre should 
quiver and snap with the untold anguish, and yet she 
clung to the hope that he might still be true, and that 
his silence would at the proper time be explained in such 
manner as to relieve him from all blame. But at the 
last came a letter from him which banished all hope, a. 


166 


ravenia; or, 


letter, brief and cold, in which he advised her “ to for- 
get him ; that it would be better for both to do so ; that 
they would both be happier,” etc. 

Words can hardly depict the anguish of our heroine, 
as she read this cold and heartless epistle, and with it the 
assurance that for a second time the wealth of the affec- 
tions of her heart had been squandered upon an un- 
worthy object. For a time she sat stunned and bewil- 
dered by the fat^ discovery — fatal at once to all her love 
of him — of the falsity of him whom she had considered 
the very embodiment of truth and nobleness. For a 
time her brain whirled, and it was only by the exercise of 
all the strength and force of character she could summon 
that she kept herself from fainting. Then her womanly 
pride and fortitude came to her aid, and though fearful 
was the struggle, she conquered and arose in her might, 
determined that from that hour he should be as nothing 
to her. Many and bitter were the tears she shed ere 
the sacrifice of her idol was fully completed, but at 
last she triumphed and came forth from the strife, some- 
what scathed it is true, but with her spiritual strength 
renewed, and confirmed in her devotion to the right. 


I 



THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


167 


CHAPTER XY. 

Ravenia had conquered her love for “ Gus/’ but the 
struggle had left her. but a shadow of her former self. 
Within the family circle of the Westons she was meas- 
urably unchanged; she still displayed toward each mem- 
ber of the family the same degree of kindness and affec- 
tion which she had ever manifested, and which had been 
called into being by the assistance they had rendered 
her, but to the world at large her whole demeanor was 
-changed. She was no longer interested or attracted by 
the pleasures of society or the delights of social inter- 
course; she took the same part in such things that she 
had ever done, but it was without any heart ; she moved 
amongst her associates like an icicle, a being without a 
heart and without the least sympathy with anything 
around her, and upon her countenance was ever present 
an expression of weariness which told of the desolation 
within. She had answered in fitting terms the cold and 
cruel letter in which her lover had announced his change 
of purpose, and with the mailing of that letter she felt 
that she had severed every tie which bound her to happi- 
ness in the past. 

And when, a short time after this event. Dr. Wills 
again made her an offer of his hand and heart, he met 
with no refusal. She professed no love for him, or 
indulged in no extraordinary display of emotion or senti- 
ment — cold and impassive as a statue, she listened to the 
repetition of his tale of love, and at its close, gave him a 
hand which chilled him with its icy, frigid coldness, and 
took upon herself the vows which were to make her his 
forever. And he, feeling keenly the assurance that in 


168 


ravenia; or. 


her heart abode no love for him, accepted the sacrifice, 
fondly trusting to his own great love for her, and to the 
effect of the most unwearied kindness, to awaken within 
her breast that sentiment without which no woman 
should ever give her hand in marriage. 

Upon one point, however, she was immovable, and 
that was as to a postponement of the marriage for a time. 
Wills, now that he had obtained the promise for which 
he had so long sued in vain, was exceedingly anxious 
that the wedding should take place at once, and used all 
the powers of his persuasive eloquence to win her con- 
sent, but in vain. Two months was the shortest period 
of probation to which she would consent, and with this 
he was forced to be satisfied. 

Eavenia had a secret motive for insisting upon this 
delay. Notwithstanding the fact that she had, as she 
fancied, driven the image of “ Gus” entirely from her 
heart, there still lingered within her breast a latent hope 
that when he should receive and read her farewell letter, 
the old love for her would be awakened in his heart and 
that their former relations might be restored. And this 
it was, although she was herself unaware of the fact per- 
haps, which induced her to claim the delay. Two months 
would afford ample time for her letter to reach him and 
be answered, and if at the end of that time she did not 
hear from him, the last lingering ray of hope would 
expire and then she would care very little what became 
of her. 

What a strange medley of contradiction is the human 
heart. Had any one told Eavenia that she still loved 
this man, the one who had so cruelly betrayed her trust, 
she would have repelled the assertion with indignant 
scorn, and would have actually thought her indignant 
denial was true, and yet she was steadfastly insisting 
upon postponing the consummation of her marriage con- 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


169 


tract, solely in obedience to the dictates of that love 
which she imagined entirely eradicated ; and in this she 
was only obeying the common impulses of our nature. 
Who is there that, having witnessed the demolition and 
disappointment of some long-cherished hope, has not 
said, time and again, “I don’t care anything about it,” 
while the frequent repetition of this hackneyed phrase 
but affords the strongest possible evidence of its falsity, 
and that the speaker does really care. 

But time passed, and still no word came to assure her 
that he desired to recall those unkind words, and at last 
arrived the day fixed for the wedding, and with heavy 
heart and bloodless, quivering lips, whose pallor vied 
with the hue of the bridal veil she wore, and with a hand 
whose deathly coldness thrilled through the frame of the 
bridegroom as it rested on his arm, she stood up before 
the man of God and spoke the vows which bound her to 
Francis Wills so long as they both should live, while 
deep within her inmost heart she registered a solemn 
promise that those faintly spoken vows should be re- 
deemed so far as in her lay. And thus the breach be- 
tween herself and “ Gus ” was completed and rendered 
impassable. 

It had been arranged that they should board, for 
sometime at least, at Mrs. Weston’s, and thither they 
went immediately upon leaving the church. That lady 
had invited a few of the most intimate friends of the fam- 
ily to meet and spend the evening with them, and in this 
quiet and unostentatious manner Ravenia buried the last 
of the hopes by which, during the last year, she had been 
cheered and gladdened while contemplating her some- 
what eventful career. 

But a short time elapsed after her marriage until 
Ravenia was somewhat surprised by her husband saying 

to her one evening ; 

12 


170 


ravenia; or, 


‘‘ I am sorry to interfere with the pleasure you seem 
to enjoy with these excellent friends, but fear I shall be 
compelled to do so.” 

What do you mean ? ” she asked, for the idea of 
leaving the home which had so long sheltered her was 
n^nything but pleasant. 

Simply this : To-day I received an order from the 
surgeon general of the army, directing us to report im- 
mediately for duty at Indianapolis,” he replied. “ I am 
making an effort to have the order rescinded and some 
one else detailed in my place, but really entertain very 
little hope of success.” 

If it must be, it must,” said Kavenia, quietly. “I 
shall very much regret leaving here and going among 
strangers, but wherever you are ordered, there is my 
jplace. So if we have to go, let us make the best of it.” 

Thank you for the spirit you manifest,” he replied. 

I am free to confess that I was very much opposed to 
going, and that my greatest objection was that it would 
ibe unpleasant for you.” 

Of course I would much rather stay here,” replied 
kavenia, ‘‘but if we cannot, you shall never hear one 
word of complaint from me.” 

The next morning at breakfast the tidings were com- ‘ 
municated to the family, and produced no little conster- 
nation, especially among the younger members. Eavenla 
had been so long their guardian and instructor that they 
had come to look upon her as really belonging to them, 
and with one accord they entered their protest against 
her being taken away. 

Protest and remonstrance, however, generally avail 
nothing in conflict with “ military necessity,” and so it 
was in the present instance. In due time the communi- 
cation which Wills had forwarded to headquarters was 
returned, “through the regular channels,” endorsed. 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


171 


“ The request contained in this paper cannot be granted, 
owing to the exigences of the service. Assistant Surgeon 
Wills will proceed without delay to Indianapolis and 

report for duty to Surgeon , in charge. By 

order,” etc. 

Of course further delay was out of the question, and 
the next day after the receipt of this communication. Dr 
Wills proceeded to Indianapolis, Eavenia remaining at 
Mrs. Weston’s until he could make arrangements for a 
suitable boarding place for her, when she was to come on 
and join him. It was nearly a week before he succeeded 
in making arrangements to suit him, his time being so 
constantly occupied with assuming the duties of his new 
position and getting accustomed to the routine of 
business. 

But when he had been absent about a week the mail 
brought her a letter informing her that he had secured 
good board and comfortable rooms at the house of a Mr* 
J. P. Aston, and asking her to come on at once, as he was 
very lonely without her. The letter was full of such 
expressions of tender and devoted affection as brought 
tears to the eyes of Eavenia as she reflected how poor 
was the return she could make for the love which he 
showered in such profusion upon her. But she reflected 
that though the fountains of her heart were frozen up 
and love for him could never exist there, still she could 
be to him a true and faithful wife, and God helping her, 
this she would be. The next day she went to Indianapo- 
lis and was met at the depot by her husband, who took 
her at once to Mr. Aston’s and formally presented her to 
the family. 

She found that every arrangement had been made for 
the promotion of her comfort, of which circumstances 
would possibly admit. Her rooms were the best in the 
house, and were furnished in the most comfortable and 


172 


ravenia; or, 


even elegant style, while her table was covered with use- 
ful and entertaining books, music, and the like, while in 
one corner stood a new and splendid guitar to replace 
the inferior one which had been her companion for so 
many years. 

Again she was moved to tears of gratitude at these 
evidences of affectionate concern, but though her heart 
was thereby touched, its cords steadfastly refused to give 
back the heavenly symphonies of love. The music of 
that theme, alas ! was forever hushed — the sacred fire 
was extinguished upon the alter of her soul, and no act 
or word of his could call it into life again. She could do 
her duty to him — more than this was not in her power 
to bestow. 

The young husband stood silent while she examined 
the room, and with pride and pleasure beheld the swell- 
ing emotion which told how fully she appreciated his 
efforts to promote her comfort and happiness. At last 
he spoke : 

“How do you like your new home 

“ I cannot tell how much I thank you for your 
thoughtful kindness,” she replied, with deep and earnest 
emotion. “ Everything is just as I would have it — just 
what I might have expected from you, and that is the 
very highest commendation I can bestow.” 

“ Then my Ravenia is pleased,” he said coming close 
up to her and passing his arm arm around her waist. 

“Yes, Francis, I am pleased,” she returned, “and 
cannot find a stronger word to express my satisfaction.” 

The young husband was gratified with her commend- 
ation, but still it was not what he wanted. He desired 
more than her praise, he wanted her love, and he listened 
with eager, straining ears for some word which indicated 
a softening of her heart, but no such word came. There 
was gratification, obedience and duty there, but no love ; 


THE OUTCAST EEDEEMED. 


173 


and with the great hunger which consumed his soul all 
unsatisfied, he half turned away to hide the agony which he 
felt was showing itself in every lineament of his counte- 
nance. ‘‘ Never mind,” he said to himself, “ it will come 
in time. It will he impossible for her always to hold out 
against the treatment she shall receive at my hands,” 
and with this noble resolve he turned again to his bride. 

Eavenia marked his emotion and correctly defined 
its cause, but her heart was cold and dead, and she was 
unable to summon into existence feelings which had no 
abiding place there. She wished she could love him as 
she knew he deserved to be loved, but she could not 
“summon spirits from the vasty deep” in which her 
heart’s best treasures lay forever hidden. 

In this home they found all the peace and happiness 
which might be expected to flow from the most devoted 
love on the one side and the most scrupulous fidelity to 
duty on the other, but it was to last but a short season. 
The dark angel, sworn foe of the human race, was 
already pluming his wing to bear Francis Wills over the 
gloomy river into the dark and doubtful regions of the 
future, thus leaving Eavenia once more alone and friend- 
less, with no reliance for succor save upon the out- 
stretched arm of Him who has said, “ Come unto me all 
ye that labor and are heavily laden and I will give you 
rest.” 

They had been inmates of Mr. Aston’s house but a 
few weeks when the doctor came home one evening with 
a flushed face and trembling limbs which told all too 
plainly of the fatal fever which had seized upon his frame, 
already weakened and reduced by the incessant toil 
which his position required at his hands. He retired to 
rest after taking some simple remedies, but long before 
the next morning, instead of being, as he had lightly ex- 
pressed it, “ well enough,” he was raving with delirium. 


174 


ravenia; or, 


as his vitals were gradually consumed by the fell disease 
which had fastened upon them. 

Kavenia now had abundant opportunity for the dis- 
play of her idea of a wife’s duty, and never did the most 
devoted and loving spouse more faithfully watch over the 
loved one, than did she over her husband during the fear- 
ful days and nights of suffering which followed. It mat- 
tered not at what hour of the day or night he pronounced 
her name or called for anything — in an instant she was 
at his side, and during all the time of his illness, no hand 
save hers administered to him either medicine or refresh- 
ment. She slept at times it is true, but always in a chair 
by his bedside, and the least exclamation on his part was 
always sufficient to call her to him with all her faculties 
about her, ready to do anything to relieve his distress or 
soothe his delirium. 

But neither her devoted care, nor the skill and ability 
of the surgeon who attended him, could avail to stay the 
onward march of the destroyer. The fiat had gone forth 
from the Omnipotent: his name was already inscribed 
upon the roll of Death’s victims, and like a hungry wolf 
the grim tyrant was already clamoring for his prey. 

On the tenth night of his illness, Bavenia, worn out 
by the constant toil demanded of her by her self-imposed 
task, was dozing in her chair by his bedside. He had 
been unusually quiet for sometime, but suddenly spoke 
in tones whose faintness would have rendered them in- 
audible to any one whose watchfulness was less acute 
than hers. 

‘‘ Ravenia,” said he, and in an instant she was at his 
side, I have been ill a long time, have I not, and been 
a great deal of trouble, I fear.” 

“Yes, Francis,” said she, taking his hand, so cold 
that she shuddered at the contact, “ you have been very 
sick, but thank Heaven you are better now.” 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


175 


“ ITot bo; I am not better, but soon shall be,” replied 
the dying man. ‘‘ Kavenia, I am dying. Already I feel 
his cold fingers clasping my vitals. I shall not live to 
behold the dawning of another day.” 

Oh ! Francis, say not so. You must live and re- 
cover your health,” replied his wife, with emotion. 

“ It is vain to attempt to deceive ourselves,” said he. 
“ I am passing away. My time is come, and what can 
avail to stay his hand ? Hay,” said he, detaining her as 
she made a motion as if to summon some of the attend- 
ants from the adjoining room, ‘‘ do not leave me, or call 
any one else. I would be alone with you.” 

He paused a moment as if to recover his wasted 
strength, and then continued : 

But for the thought that I must leave you alone and 
unprotected, I should die contented and happy. And 
there is another thing,” he continued, hesitatingly, as if 
uncertain whether to free his mind or not. 

“What is it, my husband? speak freely,” she said^ 
weeping. 

“ I wanted to live to teach you to love me. Oh ! Ka- 
venia,” he continued, with sudden energy, “ you never 
can and never will know how I have loved you and how 
I longed to have my love returned. I knew you did not 
love me, but I married you, fondly hoping that I might 
one day win your affection. And could I but have heard 
from your lips — not that I have a word of complaint to 
make ; you have been to me all that a wife could be — 
but could I have heard from your lips one single word of 
love, I could have died happy.” 

“ Then listen,” said the weeping wife, her heart deep- 
ly touched by his emotion, “ I have learned your lesson. 
I do love you in sincerity and truth,” and as she spoke 
she clasped him in her arms and pressed kisses without 
number upon his clammy lips. 


176 


ravenia; or, 


‘‘What do you say?” said he, entwining his arms 
about her form, “ let me hear those blessed words again. 
They are sweeter than heavenly music to my ears.” 

“ I love you sincerely and truly,” she repeated, again 
covering his pallid lips and brow with her warm kisses. 

“ Oh ! my God, I thank thee. I can now die happy,” 
he exclaimed in tones of triumph, and in a moment more 
his spirit had passed to the bosom of his Father. 

Who can blame the unfortunate wife whose life, until 
her association with him, had been one long scene of sor- 
row and wretchedness, that in that hour of death and 
solemnity she resorted to falsehood for the purpose of 
smoothing his passage over the dark flood ? Surely, if 
there was sin there, it was such as pitying angels must 
forever blot out with their tears. 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


177 


CHAPTER XVI. 

Ravenia mourned for her husband with sincere sor- 
row, not as one whom she had loved as a wife should 
love her husband, but as one who had been a true friend 
to her, and who had done all that lay within his power to 
lighten the heavy burden of sorrow which had been laid 
upon her — a burden whose grievous weight is seldom 
borne by one so young as she still was ; and the tears 
which she shed over his grave were but the justly merited 
tribute to the goodness and kindness with which he had 
treated her. 

The funeral was over and she was again alone in the 
world. She would have returned to Mrs. Weston’s, but 
that lady, too, had fallen a victim to disease and death ; 
her family was broken up and scattered, and there was 
no longer a home for her there. With what fearful rapidity 
had events of the last importance to her transpired within 
the few weeks since her marriage. 

But something she must do. She could not live in 
idleness, but just what to do she did not know. She did 
not feel the least inclination to return to the life of a 
seamstress or a teacher, and yet for what else was she 
fitted ? 

After much anxious thought, she decided to learn 
the art of photographing, and after several unsuccessful 
attempts she succeeded in procuring employment in the 
gallery of one of the first artists in the city. Her salary 
for the first year was but barely sufficient to support her, 
but her husband left her in possession of a small sum of 
money, and with this, in addition to what she would 
receive for her services in the gallery, she felt sure she 


178 


eavenia; oe. 


would get along very comfortably. As the reader is 
already aware, she possessed the intelligence and correct 
taste which alone could insure success in her chosen 
association, and she had no doubt of her ability, wifh the 
experience of a year, to command wages which would 
render her independent. 

We said she was alone in the world, but this state- 
ment must not be accepted without some qualification. 
True, she had no one to whom she could turn for any 
assistance and feel that she had claims which would pre- 
vent her suit from being rejected, but still was not with- 
out an intimate friend and associate in the person of a 
daughter of Mr. Aston, who was just about her own age. 
And inasmuch as she will be in the future somewhat 
connected with our tale, we beg the indulgence of the 
reader while we briefiy recount her history as related by 
herself to Eavenia. 

Eva Earl was Mr. Aston’s only daughter, and had 
been left an orphan at the age of eleven years by the 
death of her mother. This calamity, occurring just at 
the time when she most needed judicious and watchful 
care and training, would have proved most disastrous to 
any one in whose mind the fundamental principles of 
right and wrong had been lees firmly established than in 
hers, even at that early age, for Mr. Aston’s time was 
almost totally occupied by the heavy business in which 
he was engaged, and from the time of his wife’s death 
the care and education of his children was of necessity 
confided almost entirely to the hireling hands of those 
who really felt no interest in their charge, and whose 
principal aim was to get off just as cheaply as possible 
from the demands of duty. But Eva’s mother had been 
a woman of rare good sense, intelligence and discretion, 
and the pains she had taken in the formation of her 
daughter’s mind had already better fitted her to act the 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


17 ^ 


part of a true woman, than many persons of twice her 
years. 

, And never was there greater need of such careful 
training, for upon the youthful shoulders of Eva Aston 
was thrown the burden of the principal care of two 
brothers, aged respectively nine and seven years. And 
cheerfully, and with the most wonderful discretion in one 
so young was the burden sustained. True, she was not 
the head of the household. Mr. Aston had a housekeeper, 
but she was one of those peculiar creatures who, without 
a drop of the milk of human kindness in their composi- 
tion, are unable to enter into or comprehend the feelings, 
wishes, hopes and fears of childhood, and who feel that 
their duty to children is fully discharged when they are 
provided with something to eat, drink and wear, never 
once reflecting that other matters of far greater import- 
ance than these, essential as they are, demand attention 
in order to fit the child to act properly their part upon 
the stage of existence. And with these views of her duty 
to the little ones ostensibly in her charge, and a naturally 
hard and imperious disposition, it is not to be wondered 
at that so far as she controlled them their little joys 
should be few, while their spirits were chilled by contact 
with her unfeeling nature. 

And it was to Eva alone that Sidney and Willie, (for 
those were the names of her brothers), could look for 
sympathy, for instruction, or even for consolation under 
the too frequent injustice and oppression of the house- 
keeper. And nobly did she perform the duty thup thrust 
upon her. Under her care and tuition they became boys,, 
such as any father might be proud to call his own ; inteU 
ligent almost beyond their years, studious, and with the 
most correct principles and habits fully impressed upon 
their minds. Many a mother who prides herself upon 


180 


ravenia; or, 


lier government of her chHclren would take lessons with 
profit from this child of but eleven years of age. 

Thus matters went on for three years, and Eva had 
attained the age of fourteen. An event which transpired 
at this time, but which it is not necessary to relate here, 
opened Mr. Aston’s eyes to the true state of affairs, and 
the result was the discharge of the unfaithful house- 
keeper, and the formal installation of Eva in the posi- 
tion she had long practically filled, that of head of the 
family. She was not, of course, expected to do the work 
of the household ; that was far beyond her strength and 
was performed by hired servants, but she became the 
absolute mistress and overseer. 

But this elevation to place and power did not affect 
the well poised mind of the young housekeeper. She 
remained the same kind, judicious and discreet ruler she 
had been before, and controlled her dominion entirely by 
the force of love instead of the arbitrary rod of despotic 
power. And under her administration the condition of 
the household, and especially of the two boys, was soon 
very materially improved. It was no small task for a 
girl of fourteen thus to become the head of a family, and 
her feelings and resources were often taxed to their ut- 
most limit to properly discharge the duties of her trying 
and responsible position. 

But a still heavier task was awaiting her. Her 
brother Willie, her pet and favorite, was stricken down 
with fever. He was a child of very large brain, and of 
fine, nervous temperament, and to his brain the fever was 
attracted. For days she watched beside him almost con- 
stantly, doing all that the most devoted love, directed by 
the skill of an experienced nurse, could suggest to calm 
his delirium and assuage the pains which racked his 
frame — for he would scarcely permit any one but her to 
do anything for him — but all was in vain. In vain she 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


181 


invoked Him in whose hands are the issues of life and 
death to spare her brother to her — in a few days, but lit- 
tle more than a week from the time he was first attacked,, 
the angels bore him on bright wings to another and 
happier world. Eva niourned her brother with sincere- 
affection, and then all the love which had been the por- 
tion of the two brothers seemed concentrated upon 
Sidney. 

When he reached the age of sixteen he was sent away 
to college, but not until he had seen his sister given 
away in marriage. 

Sometime before this Eva had formed the acquaint- 
ance of a young lawyer by the name of Edward Earl. 
He was a young man of showy exterior and of undoubted 
talent, and had already attained a very battering position 
in the practice of his profession. He had been intro- 
duced to Eva at a social party given by one of her friends,^ 
and they had seemed from the first to be mutually at- 
attracted to each other by the grace and intelligence 
which each undoubtedly possessed. He had followed 
up this first acquaintance by an early call in which first 
impression were but confirmed, and in a short time she 
came to expect and watch for his coming with the ill- 
concealed impatience with which a maiden is wont to 
anticipate the visit of her favored lover. 

But though Eva was so much fascinated by the young 
and interesting attorney, Mr. Aston viewed the growing 
intimacy between them with anything but pleasurable 
emotions. He had no well founded or tangible objection 
to Mr. Earl — nothing had ever been urged against his 
character in the community in which he lived — and yet 
Mr. Aston fancied that at times he detected in his con- 
versation the faintest possible indication of a laxity of 
principle which made him fearful of trusting the happi- 
ness of his child in his care, and caused him to view witk 


182 


ravenia; or, 


Bome alarm the influence he was gaining over her mind. 
But the closest watching failed, as before stated, to dis- 
cover any ground upon which to predicate any charges 
against him, and when after a courtship of somemonths, 
the lovers went hand in hand to Mr. Aston to ask his 
blessing upon their union, he, feeling that his prejudices 
against Mr. Earl were perhaps unfounded, having the 
most unlimited confldence in his daughter’s judgment, 
and considering that her happiness was at stake, yielded 
a reluctant consent to their marriage, only stipulating 
that the ceremony should be deferred until she had 
passed her eighteenth birthday. To this the ardent lover 
was obliged, though unwillingly, to accede, and when 
the day arrived, the wedding was celebrated according 
to the forms of the Episcopal church, in the presence of 
a few of the most intimate friends of both parties, soon 
after which they went to housekeeping in a pleasant little 
cottage on Illinois street. 

Mr. Aston had, meantime, employed a highly respect- 
able widow lady, by the name of Mrs. Logan, as a house- 
keeper, and but barely two months had elapsed from the 
time of Eva’s marriage until Mrs. Logan became the 
wife of Mr. Aston — a marriage which, to my certain 
knowledge, neither of them ever for one single moment 
regretted. Their lives since the union of their fortunes 
and their interests have been one constant scene of peace 
and happiness. 

Poor Eva, however, was less fortunate in her selection 
of a companion for life than was her father. Scarcely 
had the honeymoon of her wedded life waxed and waned 
until she found that he whom she had made her idol, and 
whom her fond heart had pictured as a model of human 
excellence, was totally unworthy of the great love she had 
bestowed upon him. Instead of his being the man of 
high toned principle and moral rectitude and unselflsh 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


183 


nobleness of soul which her fancy had painted him, she 
found that she had married a soulless and unprincipled 
libertine ; a man actuated by none but the most selfish 
motives, whose only c^re was the gratification of his own 
desires, no matter at what expense of sorrow or suffering 
to any one else. 

How did the heart of the loving wife sink within her 
as she thus beheld the veil rudely torn from the face of 
her idol, and saw the hideous deformity of character 
which the mask had concealed only so long as was nec- 
essary to accomplish his purpose. How she wished, but 
in vain, that she had heeded the warnings and remon- 
strances of her father. But it was now too late, and with 
the firmness of a proud woman she looked the evil in the 
face, and resolved to meet her fate without flinching and 
without complaining. Oh ! no ; the world, and least of 
all her father, should never know how much she suffered, 
and how deeply she regretted her ill-advised marriage. 
But there were times when, in the solitude of her 
chamber, at the lonely hour of midnight, while her hus- 
band perchance was engaged in some wild debauch or 
bacchanalian revel, it seemed to her that her sorrows 
were more than she could endure, and but for her fear 
of offending Him who gave her being and who has for- 
bidden us to lay down our lives save according to His 
will, she would have prayed for rest — the calm rest of 
the grave. 

Still she went on hoping against hope, and when she 
felt in her inmost soul the joy of a new life springing 
into existence, she fondly believed that the coming 
stranger would prove the messenger sent from on high to 
reclaim him from the error of his ways. But all too soon 
this last hope was destined to be disappointed, as so many 
had been before. He daily grew more and more cold, 
neglectful and distant, and finally, without a word of 


I 


184 


ravenia; or, 


explanation, left his home, merely telling her he was going 
away on business, and for the long space of four weary 
months — months of pain and anguish insupportable — she 
neither saw nor heard anything of him. 

When he at last returned, she timidly, but with all 
the pride of a young mother in her first-born, brought 
forward a sweet little boy of three months and laid it in 
his arms, simply saying, “ He is ours, and his name is 
Edward,’’ and stepped back to watch the effect upon 
him of this simple appeal. But oh ! how cruelly were 
the hopes which her fond fancy had conjured up dashed 
to the ground. A moment he gazed coldly upon the 
little dimpled face upturned to his, and then merely say- 
ing : “ A very pretty baby — now take him away, for I 

never did love children.” He handed him back without 
even so much as a kiss or the most distant manifestation 
of parental affection. Eva’s beautiful eyes filled with 
tears as she took the babe and turned away, and from 
that moment all hope of the reformation of her husband 
died out within her bosom. 

About a week he remained at home, and then went 
away much in the same manner as before, and from that 
time to the present she had never heard of him. For 
some time, however, she continued to occupy the house 
in which he had left her, and by sewing and such other 
work as she could get to do, endeavored to support her- 
self and her infant child. 

Who can tell the wretchedness that poor, miserable, 
deserted creature endured for the next few months? 
What language can depict the misery which falls to the 
lot of a woman, deserted as she was by him who had 
sworn to love, honor and protect her ? It is not alone 
the physical sufiering — the actual hunger and cold; the 
constant, unremitting toil, the head throbbing as though 
it would burst; the wearied, aching limbs whose every 


i 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


185 


twinge demands in thunder tones the rest which stern 
necessity forbids ; the eyes heavy with loss of sleep and 
swollen and inflamed with constant weeping ; it is not 
these alone, terrible though they are, which make up the 
burden of her wretchedness. Oh! no, there is more 
reflned and keener torture than any or all of these. It is 
when the world has become stilled around her, and when 
alone with her loneliness she pursues her ill-requited toil 
as the hands of her clock point to the midnight hour ; 
when memory sets before her the recollection of antici- 
pated joys and hopes forever blighted; when the dread 
uncertainty surrounding the future, whose aim and misty 
outlines seem full of gloomy portent ; when imagination 
conjures up all the horrid images which her loneliness 
and the weird stillness around her can suggest, then it is 
that her brain reels with the agony and intensity of its 
suffering, and the most exquisite torture of her situation 
is forced upon her. 

To Eva’s nature, delicate by birth and refined by 
education, the misery of such a life was almost insup- 
portable, and to that misery was superadded the self- 
imposed burden of concealment. For though long since 
convinced that she was forever abandoned by him to whom 
she had intrusted her all, even her very life, her pride 
would not permit her to reveal her misery to her father 
and ask his aid in escaping from it. Besides, there was 
the ever present, lingering, illusive hope that her hus- 
band would one day return, and then, not for worlds 
would she have had her father know what she had 
endured. True, she could not conceal from him the fact 
of her husband’s absence, but she always excused it on the 
plea of business and still struggled on, vainly hoping 
against hope, that something would occur to afford her 
relief. 

But the time was coming when concealment was no 
13 


186 


ravenia; or, 


longer possible. Her constant, unremitting toil and loss 
of rest told fearfully upon her, while the want of suffi- 
cient and nourishing food completed her prostration, and 
she was compelled to abstain entirely from work. Her 
father visiting her one day, entered the house without 
knocking as was his wont, and made his way without 
warning to her little sitting room. She was lying upon 
a lounge from which she attempted to rise as he entered 
the room, but fell back from mere weakness and exhaus- 
tion. Drawing a chair to her side, he folded *her in his 
arms, and said : 

“ My dear daughter, what does this all mean ? Are 
you sick ?” 

The poor girl was overcome by weakness, and the 
pent-up emotions of her heart poured out in a violent 
flood of tears. Mr. Aston made no efibrt to check her 
tears, for he had long suspected that she was concealing 
something from him, and now that the fountains of her 
heart were broken up, he felt sure that everything would 
be fully explained and he could afibrd to wait patiently. 
And he had not long to wait. Soon the violence of her 
emotion exhausted itself, and then, with her face hidden 
on his bosom, she replied in a low voice : 

‘‘ Yes, father, I am sick in body and mind.’’ 

“Where is Edward?” he demanded. 

“I know not. I have not heard from him for months, 
not once since he went away,” she replied, while her 
tears flowed afresh. 

“ What ! not heard from him since he went away, so 
many months ago !” exclaimed her father in unfeigned 
astonishment, for he had never once suspected that the 
evil which he was convinced existed in the family was as 
great as her present revelation seemed to indicate. 

“Ho, dear father, I have not.” 

“But have you no idea where he is ?” 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


187 


“ Not the least. When he went away he did not say 
where he was going, or how long he would be absent. 
He merely said business called him away, and I feared 
to ask any explanations,’’ she said timidly, and with a 
heavy sigh. 

You feared to ask him any explanations ! What do 
you mean* by that ? Had he abused you until you were 
afraid to ask him even so simple a question as where he 
was going ?” he demanded in tones whose ringing sound 
indicated the choler rising within. 

‘‘ No, father, I did not mean exactly that,” she replied 
deprecatingly, for she dreaded her father’s wrath being 
excited against her worthless and unprincipled husband,. 
‘‘ but he w^s always so reserved about his business.” 

So reserved about his business that his wife dare not 
even ask where he is going, or how long he will be away. 
And I suppose it is the same reserve which keeps him 
from writing to you or doing anything for you for months, 
while you are here starving to death,” he said, sarcasti- 
cally. “ Come, Eva, that will not do.” 

‘‘ Well, I meant to say that he was so cold and dis- 
tant during the time he was at home that I did not feel 
free to say anything to him about such matters,” said she 
in a low voice. 

“Yes,” said he, in a voice whose vehemence betrayed 
the anger which burned in his bosom, “ I understand it 
all, now. The villain, after winning you away from hap- 
piness and home, has basely deserted you, most likely for 
some new attraction. And you have kept it all to your- 
self. Why have you not told me this before ? ” he de- 
manded almost fiercely. 

Eva was frightened at his violence. Her father was 
habitually a man of calm and unmoved exterior, and she 
did not remember even to have seen him so much* excited 
before. And for a moment she made no reply, but 


188 


ravenia; or, 


when he again demanded to know why she had not told 
him this before, she found strength and courage to reply ; 

“]33jAH3 [ thought he would be back, and I still 
cannot believe that he intended to abandon me her 
woman’s heart clinging with true feminine devotion to 
the object around which the tendrils of its affection had 
been entwined, even though convinced, as she was, of the 
utter unworthiness of that object. 

“ Intend to abandon you ! of course he did. You 
will never see him again in this world,” replied the father. 
‘‘But he shall not escape the just punishment of his 
villainy. I will follow him to the ends of the earth to 
mete out to him the chastisement he deserves. 

“ Oh ! no, dear father,” said Eva, earnestly ; “ al- 
though he has wronged me, I forgive him, and you must 
do the same. It would kill me to know of your harm- 
ing one hair of his head. hTo matter what evil he has 
done to me, he is the father of my hoy, and for his sake 
I forgive all. Oh ! promise me,” she continued, implor- 
ingly, “ that you will take no steps to inflict vengeance 
upon him. Promise for my sake and that of my little 
boy, who is at least innocent of any wrong.” 

“ But the scoundrel deserves punishment, and he 
ought to receive it,” said the father, hesitatingly. 

“ That may be,” replied Eva, “ but surely, if I can 
forgive him, you ought. His crime was against me, and 
if I choose to forget the wrong, why should you not? 
Promise me, my dear father, that you will make no effort 
to avenge what you may suppose to be my wrongs 
Promise me, will you not ? ” and she looked up in his 
face with such a piteous, pleading expression that he was 
no longer able to resist. 

The spectacle of this woman, who had endured some 
of the most cruel wrongs which man is capable of inflict- 
ing or woman of suffering, thus nobly forgiving him by 


THE OUTCAST KEDEEMED. 


189 


whose hands they had been inflicted, and not only 'for- 
giving but doing her utmost to shield him from justly 
merited punishment, illustrates the character of a true 
woman’s love, and finds no counterpart save in the 
divine love which prompted the Son of God to come 
down to earth and sufler and die that he might redeem 
from deserved punishment those who had oflended 
against the majesty of His Father’s law. 

For a time Mr. Aston was undecided what to say or 
do. Certainly his inclination was strong to inflict upon 
his recreant son-in-law the just recompense of his crimes, 
but he could not resist Eva’s pleading looks and words. 
After hesitating for a time he said : 

“ It shall be as you say, m.y daughter. I will promise 
to make no efibrt to chastise him as he deserves, provided 
you at once and forever abandon him and make no effort 
to hold any intercourse with him on any account. You 
shall leave this house and return home with me, and so 
long as he stays away and makes no claim to control you 
or your child in any way, so long he is safe. But if he 
comes near you, let him beware.” 

Eva made no reply. She felt that she had achieved 
a victory, and that it was best to say. nothing more. She 
justly reflected that perhaps no circumstances would ever 
arise which would render it necessary for her to inter- 
fere farther in shielding her husband from the wrath of 
her father, and should it become necessary, it would be 
time enough to act when the emergency arose. 

Her father called a carriage, assisted herself and her 
child into it, and took a seat by her side, and in a few 
moments she had again arrived at the home of her child- 
hood, the only place where she had ever known any 
real, lasting happiness. She was welcomed by Mrs. 
Aston with as much kindness as she could have been 
had she been her own child, and her indignation at the 


190 


ravenia; or, 


treatment Eva had received was only equaled by that of 
her husband. From this time Eva and her boy found a 
home with Mr. Aston, and at the time Kavenia became 
an inmate of the house, little Eddie had grown to the age 
of seventeen months. « 

He was a bright-eyed, prattling little fellow, just be- 
ginning to talk, and Ravenia thought he was the most 
interesting child she had ever seen, and it was her atten- 
tions to him which first laid the foundation for that 
friendship between herself and his mother, which soon 
became an indissoluble tie, binding them together more 
strongly than bands of iron. 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


191 


CHAPTER XYII. 

Ravenia had been sometime at Mr. Aston’s before she 
became intimate with Eva, as mentioned at the close of 
the last chapter. Within a day or two after she came on 
to Indianapolis to join her husband, as the reader is 
already aware, and when she had but barely been intro- 
duced to Mrs. Earl, the latter left home for a visit of 
some weeks duration to some friends in Hew York. It 
was not until after the death of Dr. Wills that she re- 
tnrned, and then was just when Ravenia was most acces- 
sible to the claims and demands of a heart yearning for 
companionship. 

One day Ravenia was passing through the hall up to 
her room. Little Eddie had wandered into the hall, and 
as she came along he tried to say something to her in his 
childish way. His innocent prattle touched her heart, 
and stooping down she caught him up in her arms, and 
fled up stairs with him as though she were committing 
some crime and feared detection. An hour later the 
house was in commotion. Eddie was missing, and as no 
one had seen Ravenia carry him ofi*, all sorts of conjec- 
ture as to what had become of him were at once afloat. 
The house was searched from cellar to garret without 
result, and serious fears were beginning to be felt, when 
suddenly Eva burst into Ravenia’s room without even the 
ceremony of knocking. 

“ Oh ! Mrs. Wills,” she began, in an excited tone, 
‘‘ have you seen ” — and then she suddenly stopped, for 
there was the object of her anxious search snugly curled 
up on Ravenia’s bed and fast asleep. 


192 


ravenia; or, 


“ Dear little fellow,’" said she, approaching the bed. 
“ How terrified we all were. We thought he was lost. 
How came he here ? ” 

‘‘I picked him up in the hall,” said Eavenia, “and 
brought him up here, and after playing with him awhile 
he got sleepy and I put him to bed. I had no thought 
of causing any uneasiness or alarm, and am very sorry I 
have done so. But pray,” she continued, restraining 
Eva, who was about to waken him, “ do not disturb him. 
Sit with me until he finishes his nap, and then you can 
take him away if you wish.” 

“Perhaps I had better not disturb him,” said Eva “ so 
I will just step down and tell them the lost is found, and 
then I will return and stay till he wakens.” 

“Thank you,” was the response, and the young 
mother tripped down the stairs to relieve the anxiety per- 
vading the entire household on his account. 

This was the commencement of their intimacy, and as 
the lives of both, though brief, had been clouded all over 
with sorrow, albeit there was not much similarity be- 
tween the trials they had been called to endure, they 
very soon became intimate and confidential friends and 
associates. The burdens which each was bearing created 
a bond of sympathy between them, and whenever Eavenia 
was at home from the gallery where she was employed, 
she and Eva were sure to be found in close companion- 
ship, either reading some favorite author, engaged in 
interesting conversation, or strolling pensively and silent- 
ly about the well arranged grounds pertaining to Mr. 
Aston’s residence. 

One evening they were in the garden together — it was 
late in the fall but the weather was still pleasant — and 
were silently walking up and down one of the broad 
gravel walks. Suddenly Eavenia stopped and faced her 
friend : 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


193 


“Do you know, said she, “that I have some time 
been thinking of doing what you will no doubt call a 
very foolish thing ? ’’ 

“ ]^o, indeed,’’ replied Eva, with pretended astonish- 
ment, “ I had never imagined that my friend could think 
of, much less do, a foolish thing. Pray, what is it ? Tell 
me and perhaps I may not think it so foolish after all.” 

“Let us go in here and sit down,” said Ravenia, tak- 
ing her friend by the arm and leading her toward an 
arbor, “ and I will tell you all about it.” 

They entered the arbor and sat down, and for a few 
moments neither one spoke. 

“ Come,” said Eva at last, after waiting some time for 
her friend in vain, “ what is this very foolish thing ? I 
am dying with impatience to hear it,” but certainly the 
laugh with which the words were accompanied, contained 
no very strong indication of immediate dissolution. 

Thus urged, Ravenia began, though after entering 
the arbor she wished she had not said anything about it. 

“ I have often spoken to you of my friend in Idaho,” 
said she. “ It has been months since I have heard any- 
thing of him, and I know not whether he is living or 
dead. The holidays will soon be here. I have been think- 
ing of sending him some little token which, if he be liv- 
ing, shall recall me to his memory ; a book or two, or 
something of that sort. And yet it seems to me that 
after what has passed between us it would be rather un- 
ladylike. What do you think of it ? ” 

Eva did not answer immediately. She sat with her 
eyes cast upon the ground, apparently in deep thought. 
At last she spoke : 

“My dear Ravenia, answer me two or three questions. 
Do you still love this man, and would you wed with him 
if he were to return and ask you to do so ? ” 

“ From you I will conceal nothing,” replied Ravenia, 


194 


ravenia; or, 


{a a low tone, while a crimson hush overspread her face 
and neck. “ I do love him, and I suppose I always shall 
while life and reason are left to jne. And were he to 
ask me to-morrow to marry him, despite his seeming 
desertion, I should answer ‘yes’ without hesitation. I 
know all you would say ; that it is unnatural, unwoman- 
ly, and all that sort of thing, but still I cannot help it. 
Further, I cannot but believe that his seeming desertion 
is susceptible of some explanation which will remove the 
sting from it, and render apparent what I have for some- 
time believed — that I was too hasty and that my mar- 
riage with Dr. Wills was all wrong.” 

“ Then you never loved Dr. Wills? ” 

“ Never, and he very well understood it, at least,” 
she added, hesitatingly, as the remembrance of the death- 
bed scene rose up before her, “ until the moment of his 
death.” 

“ Poor Eavenia, how much more sorrowful your life 
has been than my own,” said Eva, tenderly passing her 
arm around her waist. “ But what assurance have you 
of his loving you at the present, or of his ever having 
done so ?” 

“ None, save my faith in the promises and protesta- 
tions which he made before going away,” replied Ea- 
venia. “ It did not seem to me then that all his vows, 
made with so much apparent earnesti^ess, could be the 
false and unmeaning sounds they have since appeared 
to be, and I cannot now think that he is false. There 
must be some terrible misunderstanding about the mat- 
ter, I am sure. And oh ! how dreadful to me may be 
that misunderstanding if not properly cleared up. Still, 
what can a lady under such circumstances do?” and she 
shuddered with the intensity of the emotion thronging 
her soul. 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


195 - 


‘‘But how do you account for his never having writ- 
ten to you since that time ? ” 

“ He knew that I was married, because a copy of the 
published notice was sent to him,” replied Kavenia,. 
“ and of course he deemed me false, and having never- 
heard anything more from me, has kept silent of course. 
I have no idea he knows of my husband’s death.” 

“I hardly know how to advise you,” said Eva. “ It 
may be all as you say, and if so, sending this present 
might be the means of insuring happiness to you both. 
On the other hand, should he have wilfully and inten* 
tionally abandoned you, this effort at a renewal of the 
acquaintance which he, perchance, desires terminated^ 
might result in nothing but shame and confusion. My 
advice would be to take counsel, not from your inclina- 
tion but from your calm, deliberate judgment, and act as 
that bids you. But in any event do-nothing hastily, and 
nothing you will hereafter regret, let it terminate as it 
will.” 

She pronounced the last words with more than usual 
earnestness and emphasis, for she really feared that her 
friend would do something rash in the somewhat danger- 
ous ground upon which she was then treading. And 
having delivered this friendly caution, the two arose 
from the seat they had been occupying and silently 
sought the house. 

They each retired to their rooms, but for a long time 
ere Eavenia retired she sat musing upon the conversation 
she had just had with Mrs. Earl, and trying to decide 
what she should do relative to the subject matter of the 
conversation. And when a decision was finally reached, 
we very much fear that, notwithstanding Eva’s impres- 
sive caution, inclination had more to do with her decision 
than her judgment, for she decided to send the books. 

And yet we would not condemn her too harshly for 


196 


ravenia; or, 


doing. A prude will of course roll up her eyes and 
elevate her hands in holy horror upon being told that Ra- 
venia sent a holiday gift to a man to whom she had been 
once engaged, with whom the engagement had been 
broken off by his act, and from whom she had not since 
heard. Indeed we do not think we would have done 
just as she did under the same circumstances, but still 
we do not think there was any criminality connected 
with what she did — it was merely a matter in which her 
judgment differed from what ours would — and however 
ill-advised we may have judged her action to be, we have 
no right to impute blame to her. If no one in the world 
ever does anything worse than this, surely this earth will 
epeedily become a much happier place than it now is. 

In due time she purchased and sent to her friend 
Gus,’’ three volumes of the most popular publications 
ehe could find in the city. She wrote her name in each, 
and without other indication of what she in her secret 
heart hoped they might accomplish, she sent them on 
their way into the almost trackless wilds of the far west, 
there to meet the wanderer and remind him that far 
away in the land of civilization and sunshine, there was 
one who at least remembered his name and felt an in- 
terest in his welfare. 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


197 


CHAPTER XYIIL 

There is no principle of human nature more fully con- 
firmed by the experience and observation of every one^ 
than those who have been reclaimed from the path of 
error, no matter of what kind or by what influences re- 
claimed — become at once the most earnest and ardent 
advocates of the right, even excelling in earnestness those 
by whose efibrts their own regeneration has been effected. 
It is the existence of this principle which leads the 
reformed inebriate to advocate the cause of temperance 
with more earnestness and sincerity than one who has 
never gone astray — it was this principle which made the 
apostle Paul the most ardent and devoted of the followers 
of our Lord and Master, even as before his miraculous 
conversion he had been the most relentless of persecu- 
tors. Ho one can read the noble defence of this man 
before King Agrippa, without recognizing in all its force 
the existence of the principle we are considering, and 
which in connection with the grace of God, enabled him 
then and there to confound his accusers, and almost to 
persuade his judge to embrace the despised religion of 
which he was so earnest an advocate. 

Thousands of other instances might be adduced, if 
necessary, to prove the truth of the existence of this prin- 
ciple, but it will hardly be disputed by any one, and 
though “ the zeal of new converts ’’ has been sometimes 
spoken of in sneering terms by the unthinking, and 
though that zeal may sometimes, for want of proper 
direction, accomplish less of good than it otherwise might, 
still it cannot successfully be denied that for much of the 
advancement of every wholesome reform the world is- 
indebted to the existence of this salutary principle. 


198 


kavenia; or, 


Ravenia was no exception to the general rule which 
we have been considering. She had wandered in the 
mazy and devious paths of sin and shame, and had drank 
the bitterest waters of the pool of degradation, but . the 
hand of kindness, guided by the precepts inculcated by 
one of the noblest of human orders had been extended to 
her, and she had been lifted from the mire and placed 
upon the firm pedestal of virtue and happiness, and now 
her whole efibrts were directed to the relief of the poor 
unfortunates who were treading the same thorny path 
from which she had so lately herself escaped. She felt 
that it was a duty she owed to the memory of the noble 
man, now sleeping in an unknown grave, far from home 
and friends, by whom her own rescue had been effected, 
that no opportunity to do good in this direction should be 
allowed to pass unimproved, and, besides, it was in this 
way only that she could stifle the reproaches of her con- 
science for her own past sin. 

Many a time did the noble girl in the discharge of her 
self-imposed duty, visit localities where the brutal oath, 
the obscene jest, the bacchanalian song would curdle the 
blood with horror or crimson the cheek of the hearer 
with the warm blush of outraged modesty, and where a 
heart less devoted to the interests of suffering humanity 
than was hers might well have shrunk appalled. Ah! 
the world but faintly realizes the horrid character of the 
scenes amid which she was so constantly laboring. But 
still she persevered, and many a fallen wretch learned to 
bless the pale and sorrowful woman to whose gentle 
ministrations they owed so much. 

In these visits she was not unfrequently accompanied 
by the author, who has seen tears of repentance course 
down cheeks hallowed by care and remorse and suffering, 
as she earnestly besought the wretched creatures to turn 
from their evil ways to the walks of virtue. But not in 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


199 


the way of admonition alone did she manifest her interest 
in those whose fellow she had so lately been. The con- 
tents of her slender purse — all that she could spare from 
her own alpsolute necessities were freely contributed to 
their assistance, to aid those who were desirous of escap- 
ing from the thralldom in which they were held. Ah ! 
how much of good might be accomplished in the way of 
reclaiming fallen humanity if professed Christians would 
but make half the efforts in their respective spheres that 
did the heroine of our tale. 

One morning she called upon the author before break- 
fast, holding in her hand the morning paper. She seemed 
somewhat excited, and scarcely waiting to exchange 
salutations, said : , 

“ Oh ! Annie, have you seen the paper this morning ? 
There is an account of the arrest of a young girl only 
seventeen years of age as an inmate of one of those horrid 
places. She will be tried at the police court this morn- 
ing, and probably sent to the workhouse unless some one 
befriends her. I am going to see her, and wish you to 
accompany me. Will you go ? 

What name does the account give her ? ’’ 

“ The name given is Ada Yance, but this is doubtless 
assumed,’’ replied Ravenia. Somehow I feel as if this 
girl might be saved and my conscience would forever 
condemn me if I made no effort to do so.” 

‘‘I feel,” replied her friend, “just as you do about it, 
but still do not think we should be too hasty about it. 
Let us do nothing rashly. Had we not better have 
breakfast before we go ? ” 

“ I would much prefer to wait for breakfast until we 
come back. I want to go to the prison, see her and 
learn her history before the trial. It may be that we 
will decide from such an interview that it is useless to try 
to do anything for her.” 


200 


RA.VENIA; OR, 


“ Well, let it be as you say,” said her friend, “ I will 
be ready in a moment,” and as she spoke she left the 
room to prepare for the walk. 

A few minutes walk brought us to the city jail, and 
as Ravenia was well known to the keeper, having fre- 
quently been there on similar errands, we were admitted 
without delay. Inquiring for the young girl, the account 
of whose arrest had so moved my friend, we were pointed 
to a young woman at the farther end of the room, seated 
on a bench, with her face hidden in her hands. We ap- 
proached her, but she seemed entirely unaware of our 
presence until Ravenia touched her on the shoulder. 
Then she raised her head and displayed a countenance of 
rare beauty, but which was now wan and haggard with 
care and sorrow, while her eyes were red and swollen 
with weeping. She waited to be addressed, evidently 
not knowing what to make of our visit. 

“ Are you Ada Yance? ” asked Ravenia, at length. 

“Yes, lady,” she replied, in a voice low and musical, 
but full of plaintive sorrow, “ at least,” she added hastily, 
and with some confusion, “ that is what I call myself 
here.” 

“ Then that is not really your name,” said Ravenia, 
quietly. 

“ Ko, it is not. But why do you ask ? Of what in- ' 
terest can the name of one like me be to you?” she 
asked, weeping afresh. 

“ Because,” said Ravenia, earnestly, “I want to serve 
you. I am sure you are not happy in the life you are 
leading, and I would do something to save you from it.” 

“ Happy ! oh ! no ; indeed, I am most miserable. But 
there is no help for me,” and the poor girl shuddered 
with agony. 

“ Do not say that,” said Ravenia, gently stroking her 


THE OUTCAST KEDEEMED. 


201 


sMning black hair. "Will you promise to live a life of 
virtue and uprightness if I will get you out of here ? ’’ 

‘‘ Oh ! yes, and, lady, I will forever bless you for it. 
I am not a bad girl at heart, and if you will only take me 
away from here, I will do anything you may desire. I 
will work for you every hour of my life, if you will only 
help me away from here,’’ said she, in tones of the most 
feverish anxiety, while she gazed earnestly and beseech- 
ingly into Bavenia’s face. 

‘‘Well, my dear child,” said Eavenia, evidently 
touched by her emotion, “ tell me your history, and I 
will see what I can do for you. Do not fear to tell me 
all. You may rely upon me as a true friend, and one 
who is desirous only to serve you. How came you in 
this place ? ” 

“ I cannot tell you all my life now,” said the girl, 
resting her head upon Eavenia’s bosom, “ but I will some 
day if I get out of here.” 

“Yes, Ada, tell me now,” urged Eavenia. “You 
need not hesitate on account of the presence of this lady. 
She is my friend, and anything you say before her will 
be as safe as if you told it to me alone. Come, Annie,” 
turning to me, “ sit down and hear what this poor girl 
has to say.” 

Thus urged she began : 

“My real name is Marcia C. Howard. My father 
died when I was about six years old and I remember 
very little about him. About three years after his death 
my mother married a man by the name of J ohnson, and 
she and I went to live with him in Lawrence. We con- 
tinued to live together until I was a little over fourteen 
years of age, when one day in the absence of my mother 
my stepfather, partly by force and partly by threats, 
perpetrated upon me an outrage too horrible to tell, and 
I fled from my home. My mother, having learned my 
14 


202 


ravenia; or, 


whereabouts, came and took me home, but I dared not 
tell my reason for leaving, for my stepfather had prom- 
ised to kill me if I ever revealed his guilty secret. By 
threats he induced me to keep silent for sometime, until 
I could endure it no longer, and I secretly left home with 
a traveling circus troupe which came through that section. 
There was a lady attached to the troupe who took me 
under her protection, and for a time I got along very 
well. But one day she was kicked on the temple by a 
horse belonging to the establishment and instantly killed. 
In this dilemma I was glad to accept the protection of 
one of the ring-masters who had paid me some attention, 
hut whose conduct toward me had always been respect- 
ful in the extreme. He now appeared to commiserate 
my loneliness and told me he would care and provide 
for me as for a sister, and soon after proposed that we 
should leave the circus and get into some other business 
in this city. To this I consented, and we came here and 

stopped at a house on street. I soon learned the 

character of the house, and attempted to leave, but I was 
detained a prisoner, and finally drugged and forced to 
comply with his wishes. After keeping me there about 
three weeks, he finally left, and the very next night all 
the inmates of the house were arrested, and here I am,” 
and overcome by her feelings, she burst into tears and 
sobbed aloud. 

“ There, don’t cry,” said Eavenia, “ but keep up your 
spirits, and we will see what can be done.” 

“ My only hope is in you,” replied Ada, still weeping. 

I have no money and no friends, and unless you can do 
something for me I shall be sent to the workhouse, I sup- 
pose. I am aware I deserve it, but still the idea of going 
there is not a very pleasant one to contemplate.” 

Have you heard anything from your mother since 
you left ? ” 


THE OUTCAST KEDEEMED. 


203 


“Yes, she is dead. She died about a year ago.^’ 

“ Have you any brothers or sisters? ’’ 

“ I had one brother, but I have never seen him since 
our mother’s second marriage. He was very much op- 
posed to the marriage and refused to live at home any 
longer. He went away the same day she was married, in 
the evening, and never came home again while I was 
there.” 

“ Do you know where he is ? ” asked Eavenia. 

“ He was in Cleveland, Ohio, the last I heard of him,” 
replied the girl, “ but that has been over a year ago, and 
I do not know whether he is there or not.” 

“Do you know anything about his circumstances; 
whether they are such that he could provide for you if 
you went to him ? ” asked Eavenia. “ And more than 
that, do you think he would receive you ? ” 

“I do not know. He used to think a great deal of 
me in our childhood days, and I hardly think he would 
cast me off now,” replied Ada. “But I am so changed 
from what I was then that it is.hard to tell.” 

“Well, we will see. Keep up your spirits and all 
will yet come out well. And now, for the present, good 
bye,” said Eavenia, as with her friend she left the prison. 

They went to the court room and there waited until 
the case of Ada Vance was called. She entered the bar 
with a firm step, very pale, but calm in outward de- 
meanor, though the heaving bosom and quivering lip 
told how hard the struggle to maintain her forced ap- 
pearance of composure. As she glanced around the 
room and her eye fell upon the forms of her two visitors, 
her countenance visibly brightened while a sense of relief 
filled her heart. 

When the charge was preferred against her, and she 
was asked what she had to say, she answered in a low 
voice, almost inaudible with emotion, “ Guilty.” 


204 


ravenia; or. 


“ Policeman, what are the circumstances ? ” said the 
magistrate, with an air of professional indifference. 

The guardian of the city told his story in a few brief 
words. 

“ Ten dollars fine,’’ said the magistrate, and the trial 
was ended. 

Ravenia stepped forward, paid the fine, and the three 
left the room together. Marcia (as we will henceforth 
call her) was weeping tears of gratitude to her benefac- 
tress, and was so much overcome with emotion that it 
was with difficulty she could walk, but Ravenia took her 
home with her and in a short time had her restored to a 
fair degree of composure, and able to deliberate as to 
future movements. 

“You must remain with me for the present,” said 
Ravenia. “You can share my room, and meantime I 
will publish a notice in the Cleveland papers, and if your 
brother is there we shall soon hear from him.” 

“ I can never forget your kindness,” said Marcia, her 
voice trembling with emotion, “ and if it is ever in my 
power to return it, be assured I shall not fail to do so.” 

“ Never mind about that now,” said Ravenia, tenderly 
kissing her ; “ I shall be more than repaid if I succeed in 
saving you from the life of degradation upon which you 
were just entering. And I feel assured that this reward 
I shall not lose.” 

“ By the help of God, you shall not,” replied the girl, 
with solemn energy. 

For three weeks Marcia remained with her new-found 
friend. In the meantime Ravenia prepared, and sent to 
Cleveland for publication in the city papers, a notice re- 
questing William C. Howard to send her his address, 
promising in return to give information concerning his 
sister Marcia. At the end of this time came a letter 
from the gentleman himself, thanking her in the most 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


205 


earnest terms for the promised information, and entreat- 
ing her to lose no time in enabling him to find his long 
lost sister. He said he had spent considerable sums of 
money in advertising and trying to find her for several 
years, but learning nothing of her whereabouts had come 
to the conclusion she was dead, and had given up the 
search. 

Poor Marcia was almost beside herself with joy at the 
receipt of this letter. She felt that she was no longer 
alone in the world, but that she still had some one to 
love and care for her, and her heart glowed with renewed 
gratitude to the friend by whose aid and kindness this 
happy consummation had been brought about. So im- 
patient was she to set out for the home of her brother? 
upon receipt of his letter, that she could hardly wait until 
Eavenia could make the necessary preparations to ac- 
company her, for Eavenia would not consent that Marcia 
should make the journey alone. Ho, she had “plucked 
her as a brand from the burning,’^ and though she had 
the most unlimited confidence in the permanence of her 
reformation, still she felt that entire compliance with the 
requirements of duty demanded that she should stay with 
her until she placed her in the hands of those who would 
be both able and willing to take care of her. Besides, 
she knew nothing as yet of the brother or his circum- 
stances, and she desired to see for herself that her protege 
would be properly cared for, as otherwise she had re- 
solved to bring her back to her western home and take 
charge of her herself. 

Her preparations were all completed in about twenty- 
four hours, and they entered the cars for Cincinnati, in- 
tending to proceed thence by rail to the home of Marcia’s 
brother. They arrived at Cleveland in due time without 
any incidents worthy of note, and were greeted by Mr. 
Howard with a warmth and earnestness of welcome 


206 


ravenia: or. 


which gave certain assurance that the little wanderer 
had found rest and a secure retreat at last. 

After the first greetings were over, Mr. Howard, 
Marcia and Havenia, retired to a room by themselves, 
where all the incidents of the past were related and fully 
discussed and commented on. Ravenia had insisted upon 
this before she left, for she felt unwilling to leave Marcia 
until a full explanation had been made and her brother 
had expressed his views relative to the same. He 
listened in silence to her tale, and when it was finished, 
he silently folded her in his arms. 

“ My poor sister,’’ said he, “ you have been more 
sinned against than sinning. But you shall never want 
protection or shelter again. As for you, noble woman,” 
said he, turning to Ravenia and extending his hand while 
his eyes filled with tears of gratitude, God will reward 
you for your kindness to a poor unfortunate like my 
sister — man never can.” 

Ravenia took the extended hand in silence. Her 
heart was too full for her to trust herself and she made 
no reply, but an angel might have envied her feelings. 
She felt at that moment the highest delight which can 
thrill with emotion the human heart — the consciousness 
of having performed a good action, and saved an im- 
mortal soul from everlasting destruction. She felt that 
she had partially atoned for her long career of sinfulness, 
and nothing could have induced her to yield the satisfac- 
tion with which she contemplated her action. 

She remained in Cleveland a day or two at the house 
of Mr. Howard, and then took her leave, followed by the 
blessings and good wishes of the entire family. She 
went without the least misgiving as to the future of 
Marcia, for Mr. Howard was a gentleman of refinement, 
culture' and correct principles, while his pecuniary cir- 
cumstances were such as to enable him to provide 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


207 


abundantly and comfortably for bis sister, thus placing 
her at once and forever beyond the reach of temptation. 
In his excellent wife, too, he had a most efficient help- 
meet in the good work to be done, and Eavenia felt 
assured that the reformation of Marcia would encounter 
no coldness or indifference at her hands, and she left feel- 
ing the most abiding confidence that the work which she 
had so happily begun would be carried on to the perfect 
day. 

Before she left, Mr. Howard insisted upon reimburs- 
ing her the moneys she had expended on Marcia’s ac- 
count, but to this she would not consent. She assured 
him that she desired nothing of the kind ; that what she 
had done had given her a sense of peace and rest to 
which she had been a stranger for years, and now were 
she to accept any compensation it would destroy all the 
happiness she derived from this source. "When he found 
she was not to be shaken, he insisted that she should at 
least accept a present of a hundred dollars, to be used in 
some similar case. To this she at last consented, and 
receiving the money from him she returned to her board- 
ing house at Indianapolis, where the atmosphere seemed 
to glow with a brighter halo than before on account of 
her noble deed. 


208 


ravenia; or, 


CHAPTEKXIX. 

Several months of Eavenia’s life now passed in peace 
and quiet — indeed she is accustomed to speak of the 
eight months immediately following her return from 
Cleveland as among the most quiet periods of her whole 
life — not that her labor of love was by any means inter- 
mitted, but nothing worthy of special mention in this 
story took place. She prosecuted with unremitting in- 
dustry the labor of the avocation she had choBen, and in 
devotion to this, and in contemplation of the good deed 
she had done, she found relief from the sorrowful reflec- 
tions which would otherwise have crowded upon her. 

She had corresponded constantly with her Cleveland 
friends, and many a highly prized token of esteem and 
good will had she received from them, while they had 
never ceased to invoke Heaven’s choicest blessings upon 
her head for the inestimable favor she had conferred upon 
them. 

But when she had been at home eight months, the 
mail one morning brought her two letters which created 
quite a buzz of excitement in her little world. The one 
was from Cleveland, while the other bore a post-mark 
which at once arrested her attention, and for a moment 
caused her blood almost to stand still. From the shininsr 
land of gold, far off among the fastnesses of the Eocky 
Mountains came that little messenger, and who shall 
wonder or blame her that for a moment she hesitated, 
dreading, yet wishing to open it, and master its contents ? 
Would it fructify or blast the hopes, the germs of which 
had been so long cherished down deep in the most secret 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 209 

recesses of her heart? For a short space she stood 
in silent indecision and then broke the seal. 

And as her eyes fell upon the first words, a low cry of 
heartfelt joy escaped her lips, and murmuring, “ My God, 
I thank Thee,’’ she sank upon a chair, while a deep 
anthem of thankfulness arose from the true heart which 
had so long borne in silence its heavy burden. For there 
was the blessed evidence that her waiting and watching 
so many long and weary months had not been in vain. 
He who had so long been the master of her heart and the 
possessor of its choicest treasures — he whom she had so 
long and truly loved, almost as it were against hope — 
was coming back to her to claim the fulfillment of the 
promise so long since given and to make her his bride. 
Yes, her constant love was at last to meet its reward, and 
a bright haven of rest for her weary and storm-tossed 
bark was just opening to view. The angry waves of fate 
by which her. frail craft had been so long buffeted, were 
about to be hushed into everlasting quiet and calm repose, 
and what wonder that deep and fervent thankfulness to 
the Giver of all took possession of and pervaded her en- 
tire soul ? 

During all this time she had neglected, and almost 
forgotten the letter from Cleveland. She knew of course 
that it was from her friend Marcia, and the deep interest 
she felt in all that concerned her would have effectually 
prevented any forgetfulness or inattention under any cir- 
cumstances of less overwhelming importance to herself. 
And now, when she had regained her mental composure 
to some extent, she turned to the perusal of this letter 
with a sort of half self-reproach for having so long neg- 
lected it. 

And here a new surprise awaited her. The letter 
was indeed from her friend, but she was entirely unpre- 
pared for its contents, for they were neither more nor 


210 


ravenia; pR, 


less than an earnest invitation to attend her approaching 
wedding in the character of bridesmaid. She was about 
being united with a most worthy young man by the name 
of Charles Cady. He was a lawyer by profession, and 
though but lately admitted to practice, he had already 
achieved a position in the ranks of his profession which 
might well be envied by many a practitioner of twice his 
years. He had accidentally met Marcia when making a 
business call at the house of her brother, and had been 
deeply impressed with her beauty and intelligence, and 
this first impression had been but more and more devel- 
oped and strengthened by the subsequent interviews 
which he constantly sought with her, until at last he had 
become convinced that she was absolutely essential to his 
future happiness. 

For a long time she had discouraged his advances, 
although her heart bade her pursue directly the oppo- 
site course, but when he had at last embraced a favorable 
opportunity to tell her of his love, and implored her to 
share his lot, she had referred him to her brother, telling 
him that if after such interview he still remained of the 
same opinion, she would then consent to become his 
bride. In this interview Mr. Howard had unfolded to 
his young friend the entire history of Marcia’s past life ; 
her fall and reformation, and the circumstances with 
. which each had been attended. When the story was 
completed he sat in silent meditation for a short time 
and then sought Marcia’s presence. 

“ My dear Marcia,” said he tenderly, taking her by 
' the hand, “ I know all, and my mind is still unchanged. 
I feel that you are necessary as ever to my happiness, and 
I come to claim the fulfillment of your promise.” 

‘‘ Has my brother told you all of my past history ? ” 
she asked, timidly. 

“ Yes, everything,” he replied, ‘‘ and the recital has 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


211 


but confirmed my previously formed impressions of your 
character. While I may and do regret that you should 
have fallen into error, still your noble truthfulness in re- 
lation to the matter is the best proof that the error never 
contaminated your heart, and but increases my confi- 
dence in you. Will you now be my wife ? ’’ 

“ Yes, Charles, I will,’’ she replied, fervently, “ and 
by the blessing of Heaven I will endeavor to so live as to 
merit and justify your generous confidence.” 

‘‘ God bless you,” he ejaculated in tones of deep, 
earnest affection, as he clasped her in his arms and im- 
printed a warm kiss upon her lips, and thus was their 
troth plighted. 

And now the time had come when their vows were 
to be redeemed, or rather superceded by the higher and 
holier, because more solemnly pledged, vows of the mar* 
riage state. And it was to assist at the pledging of these 
higher and holier vows that Havenia was now so urgently 
invited by her friend, for Marcia had declared that under 
no circumstances could she consent to wed without the 
presence of her whom she regarded with an affectionate 
veneration almost akin to that with which a Christian 
contemplates his Divine Savior. 

To such an invitation so earnestly and tenderly urged^ 
Ravenia had of course but one answer. Although it 
would interfere sadly with the prosecution of her avoca- 
tion which was so essential to her subsistence, she could 
not refuse the request of her friend, nor would she forego- 
the pleasure of witnessing the union for life of one in 
whom she had taken so deep an interest with one whose 
nobleness and truth enabled him to triumph over the 
spirit of persecution too generally prevalent in the world. 
Accordingly she dispatched by the first mail a letter to her- 
friend, warmly congratulating her upon her approaching; 


212 


ravenia; or, 


nuptials, and assuring her that she would be present on 
the interesting occasion. 

Ah ! how earnestly she wished that that other dear 
friend, whose missive of love she had but that morning re- 
•ceived was there to accompany her — to share in the pleas- 
ure with which she would witness the marriage of her 
friend. But it might not be. Many hundreds of weary 
miles separated them, and many a long week would 
•elapse before she should see his loved features or listen to 
the warm words in which he would convey the assurances 
so glowingly expressed in the letter before her, and she 
must be content for a season yet to watch and wait, al- 
though that season, unlike the ones through which she 
had so recently passed, would be modified and warmed 
by the gay coloring of well grounded hope. But to the 
wedding. 

When she reached the residence of Mr. Howard in 
Cleveland, she was welcomed by all with a warmth which 
<jonvinced her that her past efforts in behalf of the unfor- 
tunate outcast had by no means been forgotten. Marcia 
and.her brother, as well as the family of the latter, vied 
with each other in the effort to prove the sincerity of 
their gratitude to her for having saved from eternal ruin 
her who, but for the interposition of Eavenia, would 
doubtless have been forever lost, but who was now loved, 
honored and admired by all who knew her, and who was 
so soon to become the bride of a noble and honorable 
man. Mr. Cady, too, the afiianced of her friend, to 
whom she was introduced on the very evening of her 
arrival, testified in the warmest manner his appreciation 
of the goodness which had induced her to do so much for 
one who was now so dear to him. But pleasing as were 
these testimonials to her, she had still a higher and holier 
reward — that reward which invariably follows the per- 
formance of a good action — the whisper of an approving 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


213 : 


conscience, and the smile upon her soul of an approving 
God. 

It is not necessary that we should go into the details 
of all the preparations for the wedding — the dress of the 
bride or of her bridesmaid ; the appearance of the groom 
and groomsman, or any matter of that kind. Our lady 
readers can imagine all they choose in relation to that,, 
and as to those of the other sex it would be merely “love’s 
labor lost.” We mean no disrespect to the sterner seXy 
however. Suffice it to say that the bride looked very 
beautiful, and when she and the chosen of her heart 
uttered the vows which bound them together for life it 
was with an earnestness and sincerity which convinced 
all who heard them that those vows would, with the 
blessing of Heaven, be kept in the fullness of their letter 
and spirit throughout all time to come. 

After the ceremony was performed and the friends 
present had tendered their congratulations, the entire 
company descended to the dining room, where a mag- 
nificient collation awaited them. And we venture to 
assert that never, even in the hospitable mansion of Mr. 
Howard, had been assembled a happier crowd or one less 
free from care than graced it on this occasion. Wit and 
merriment, not of the ephemeral and unnatural character 
which flows from the use of wine, (for that not unfrequent 
bane of fashionable society found no place upon Mr. 
Howard’s table,) but that born of freedom from care and 
well cultivated minds, floated gaily around, and time fled 
by unnoticed until the coachman appeared and informed 
them that the carriage was in waiting to take them to the 
depot, and that it was almost time for the departure of 
the train which was to bear them away to Cincinnati. 

Cincinnati was the place of residence of Mr. Cady’s 
parents, and it had been arranged that they should go 
thither to spend the honeymoon. It was with some 


214 


ravenia; or. 


degree of trepidation that Marcia went to visit her 
parents of a few hours. She had never seen them, and 
she almost feared lest they might not approve the choice 
their son had made, but never was any one more happily 
disappointed. Her beauty, intelligence and evident 
goodness as completely captivated the hearts of the old 
people as the same qualities had already ensnared the 
heart of the son, and before she had been there two hours 
she felt as if she had known them all her life, while they 
upon their part, loved her almost as though she had been 
their own child by the law of nature instead of only by 
the law of marriage. 

After a few weeks spent in uninterrupted happiness 
in the society of her father and mother-in-law, the new- 
made wife departed in company with her husband and 
Ravenia, (who had accompanied them from Cleveland) 
for Indianapolis, where, after leaving her, the loving hus- 
band and wife were to proceed on the way to the home 
they were to occupy in Cleveland. Ro incidents worthy 
of note transpired on their homeward journey, and in 
due time they reached the home of Ravenia, where, after 
an affectionate adieu, they left her in her loneliness, 
while they went to take possession of the little world of 
love in which they were henceforth to live and move. 

It would not be strictly just to say that Ravenia envied 
the lot of her friend; no such feeling found a place in her 
heart, and yet she could not suppress a sigh as she con- 
trasted Marcia’s situation with her own. Rot for worlds 
would she have detracted one jot or tittle from the hap- 
piness which she knew her friend enjoyed, even though 
it had been necessary to assure her own, but yet she 
could not avoid wondering why it was that she must ever 
thus see others around her enjoying all the happiness of 
this world, while her pathway remained ever lonely and 
beset with interminable thorns. The indulgence of such 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


215 


feeliDgs, however, was but momentary with her; her 
better nature soon drove them away, and with a firm 
reliance upon the goodness of that Providence who had 
so long watched over and protected her, she turned once 
more with a firm spirit to the performance of the daily 
tasks which her lonely situation required at her hands. 

But we have for sometime lost sight of Eva Earl and 
must return to her for a short time. Sometime before 
the receipt by Eavenia of the two letters before men- 
tioned, Eva had left home for a visit to New York. She 
had a cousin by the name of Clara Aston residing in that 
great metropolis ; that city which united within itself, 
perhaps, greater extremes of wealth and want, luxury 
and misery, virtue and vice than any other upon the face 
of the civilized world ; where the most pious divines and 
humanitarians and the most vicious, degraded and un- 
principled beings which disgrace the name and character 
of common humanity live and move and walk side by 
side, and where every form of vice and wretchedness 
abound with a profusion perhaps unknown anywhere 
else. This cousin had been on a visit to Indianapolis, 
and when the time for her return home came she had 
earnestly and cordially invited Eva to accompany her. 
And as she had never visited the great city, and her 
health was moreover delicate, her father had advised her 
to accept the invitation, trusting that the journey and the 
change of scenery would restore something of her wonted 
bloom to her now faded cheeks ; and after spending some 
weeks there, she had returned but a few days before 
Eavenia reached home from Cincinnati. 

But the journey so far from restoring her to health, 
as had been fondly hoped, hadproduced just the contrary 
effect. She seemed to be in a state of settled melancholy, 
while her physical condition was even worse than her 
mental. She had evidently met with some severe shock 


216 


ravenia; or, 


which threatened the most serious consequences. Her 
loving and anxious father tried in vain to ascertain the 
cause of her illness and depression of spirits, but her 
modesty prevented her confiding the fatal secret to him, 
and so it remained unsaid until the affectionate intimacy 
existing between herself and our heroine induced her to 
reveal it to the latter. Her story was substantially as 
follows : 

She had been very much interested in the sights and 
scenes of Hew York, having never been in a large city 
before. Her cousin had shown her the utmost kindness 
and attention and had taken her to visit all the noted 
places in the city, little dreaming that her kindess was to 
be productive of results which would plant a rankling 
thorn in the breast of the recipient of her attentions, and 
which would for a time even threaten to undermine her 
reason and deprive her of life. 

Among other places they visited the street luna- 

tic asylum, and went through the whole of that celebrated 
institution. On their way thither Clara had told her 
cousin of the sad case of a young lady confined there — 
one with whom she had formerly been very intimately 
acquainted, but who had now been an inmate of the in- 
stitution for some seven or eight months. Her name 
was Anna Bird. She was a young lady of great purity 
of character and of a most tender, affectionate and confid- 
ing disposition, the only daughter of a widow who kept 
a small boarding house on Bleecker street. She had 
been wooed and won by a young man of engaging exte- 
rior and apparently good character, who boarded for 
some time with her mother. They were betrothed, and 
the day was set for the wedding. She had made all 
necessary preparations, even to procuring her bridal 
robes, when but two or three days before the one set for 
the wedding, her lover had been attacked with the 


THE OUTCAST EEDEEMED. 


217 


cholera, and despite her affectionate care and the utmost 
skill of the physician, he had died in the most excruciating 
agony. The sudden blighting of all her hopes, added to 
the agony caused by witnessing the torments amid which 
her betrothed had died, had dethroned her reason, and 
from that day to this poor Anna had been a raving 
maniac. She had occasional lucid intervals, but at other 
times her demonstrations were so violent as to require 
the closest and strictest confinement to prevent her from 
destroying herself. 

This sad story brought the tears to Eva’s eyes, but 
she was soon to be subjected to a shock, of the severity 
of which she did not even dream. 

"While passing through one of the wards of the hos- 
pital in company with Clara and an attendant, she was 
suddenly startled by hearing a female voice pronounce in 
maniac tones the name of Edward Earl, followed by a 
course of passionate and frantic entreaty to him to come 
back to her once more. As the name smote upon her 
ears, Eva started as though struck by a bolt and turned 
as pale as the whitewashed wall near which she was 
standing. 

‘‘ Ah ! yes,” said the attendant, observing her emotion, 
“ poor Anna is in one of her worst moods to-day. But 
never fear, lady, she is too well confined to do any harm. 
Would you like to see her ? ” 

‘‘ Yes,” replied Eva, moved by some indefinable feel- 
ing of curiosity, “ I have heard of her and would very 
much like to see her.” 

“ This way then, ladies,” said the attendant, turning 
short to the right, ‘‘ and do you come first, Miss Aston, 
for your presence always seems to exercise a soothing in 
fiuence upon her.” 

Trembling in every limb with some weighty emotion 

which she could not define, for she could not believe there 
15 


/ 

218 kavenia; or, 

was any connection between herself and the poor, raving 
maniac before her, Eva mechanically approached the cell 
in which the wretched being was confined. And still, as 
they drew nearer, the familiar name, pronounced in those 
almost demoniac tones, which seemed to chill and curdle 
her blood with horror, came to her ears amid the weird 
laughter and fitful ravings with which she was sur- 
rounded. 

As they approached the cell the poor inmate came 
forward, and Clara spoke to her. 

“ Anna,’’ said she, kindly, “ how do you feel to-day ? ” 

A gleam of partial intelligence passed over her wan 
features, she ceased her ravings, and it was evident that 
though not entirely lucid she had recognized her old 
friend. 

“ Is that you, Clara ? ” she said, ‘‘ I thought you were 
never coming to see me again.” 

Her articulatiofi was slow and uncertain, and the 
gleam of intelligence was evidently very feeble. 

And who is that with you ? ” she continued, catch- 
ing sight of Eva, and pointing her long, bony finger at 
her. 

“That is my cousin, Eva Earl,” said Clara, unsus- 
pectingly, for she never knew that Eva had been deserted 
by her husband, but always supposed she was a widow. 

“Eva Earl, did you say?” queried the maniac. 
“ Then you ought to know my Edward. May be he is a 
cousin of yours; or maybe a brother. Wouldn’t that 
be nice, for you are a sweet lady and I love you dearly. 
Hid you ever see him ? ” 

“Hot that I know of,” replied Eva, in a choking voice, 
for she could not help feeling that he must be the same. 
“ And yet it could not be,” she said to herself. 

“ You never did. Well, here is his picture,” said the 
poor creature, removing from her neck a locket which 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


219 


she had been allowed to keep for the reason that her 
madness seemed to increase in violence whenever they 
attempted to remove it. 

“ Is he not beautiful ? ’’ she continued, extending the 
locket through the grating to Eva. 

Eva took it in her hand, and at that moment a fearful 
scream, followed by a peal of frantic laughter from the 
poor wretch before them, told all too plainly that the in- 
terval of partial lucidness had passed, and that her dread 
malady had returned in full force. 

Open it,’’ said Clara, looking at the locket which 
her cousin held in her hand, dreading yet desiring to 
open and almost uncertain what to do. 

Thus encouraged Eva touched the spring of the locket, 
but the moment her eyes fell upon the likeness it con- 
tained, she uttered a scream which almost rivaled in 
wildness that of poor Anna, and sunk fainting to the 
floor. For that one brief glance had revealed to her the 
features of her faithless husband, of him who had prom- 
ised before God and man to love, honor and cherish her 
for all time to come ! And though he had long since 
ceased to perform this vow, she had not been able to pur- 
suade herself that he was the perfidious villain he really 
was. But now the damning proof was before her and 
the shock was too great for her enfeebled frame. 

Terrified almost beyond measure, Clara raised her 
cousin’s head in her arms while the attendant hastened 
for restoratives, which were soon applied. Eva shortly 
opened her eyes and they fell upon the locket which lay 
on the floor beside her. 

Take it away,” she whispered to her cousin, with a 
painful shudder. Give it back to her, and let us go 
home. Oh ! why did I ever come here ? ” she moaned 
in agony. 

“ What is the matter, dear cousin ? ” asked the terri- 


220 


ravenia; or, 


fied Clara, for she knew something terrible had happened, 
hut what, she was utterly unable to conceive. 

“ I will tell you all when we get home,’^ said Eva, 
shuddering again. “ But let us go now.'’ 

The attendant and Clara assisted her to the carriage 
which was in waiting, and it rolled away. As soon as 
they were seated Eva threw herself upon the breast of 
her friend, and in low and agonized tones, which were 
constantly interrupted by her sobs, she told the whole 
sad story of her married life, with which the reader is 
already familiar. Clara listened with undisguised amaze- 
ment and horror to the recital, and at its close gave vent 
to expressions of indignation at the conduct of Edward 
Earl so intense that Eva was forced to defend him, albeit 
her own bleeding heart almost sanctioned every word her 
incensed cousin uttered. "What a sublime spectacle. This 
woman thus wronged and trampled in the dust, pleading 
the cause of him who had by his own villainy blighted her 
young life and turned it into an arid desert. Surely, if 
Mercy and Forgivness, twin sisters, have any representa- 
tives on earth, they are to be found in a pure, true-hearted 
and noble woman. 

Amid all the anguish caused by this positive proof of 
the unworthiness of her late husband, Eva found one 
source of never failing consolation. "While she mourned 
the wreck and ruin which his perfidy had caused, not 
only to herself but to poor Anna Bird, she fervently 
thanked God that he had been prevented from committing 
the crime of bigamy. Although cut ofi* in the midst of 
his sins, with all his terrible misdeeds unrepented of, 
from that crime at least he was free, and she devoutly 
praised the hand that had arrested him upon the thres- 
hold of that fearful and heinous sin. 

But her visit in IsTew York was at an end. This 
dreadful discovery had put an end to any pleasure she 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


221 


miglit otherwise have enjoyed there, and as soon as she 
had sufficiently recovered from the shock to he able to 
travel by rail, she departed for her home in company 
with a gentleman of her acquaintance in Indianapolis, 
who chanced to be in New York on business. 


222 


ravenia; or, 


CHAPTER XX. 

Such was the sad story which Eva related to our hero- 
ine one evening as she lay, pale and almost helpless, up- 
on a couch, hy the side of which Ravenia had spent all 
the time she could spare from her duties since her return 
from attending the wedding of Marcia. 

But though Eva had mustered strength sufficient to 
endure the journey from Hew York to Indianapolis, it 
had only been by overtasking her powers, and now the 
unnatural draft had to be repaid with interest, in accord- 
ance with the immutable laws of nature. For sometime 
after reaching home, therefore, she continued to grow 
weaker and weaker, until at last her life came to be 
despaired of, and while thus enfeebled, not only in body, 
but also in mind, she seemed unwilling to have any one 
but Ravenia do anything for her. Xo hand could smoothe 
her pillows as hers ; no one else knew so well as she how 
to prepare the draughts which cooled her burning fever ; 
no other voice could soothe as hers when reflection upon 
the dread scene in the lunatic asylum threatened, as it 
often did, to drive her to distraction — in short, her physi- 
cians asserted that Eva’s flnal recovery depended very 
much on the presence and care of Ravenia. 

In this emergency, self was not to be thought of for 
a moment. She therefore gave up her situation in the 
gallery and devoted herself exclusively to the care of her 
sick and suffering friend, and with marvelous fidelity was 
her self-imposed task discharged. During the long and 
weary weeks which beheld Eva prostrate upon her couch 
of suffering, save when compelled by the imperious de- 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


223 


mands of exhausted nature to seek temporary repose, 
Ravenia was never absent from her side. What mat- 
tered it to her that at times her head grew almost dizzy 
with pain from want of fresh air and exercise; what 
matter if she grew pale and thin, or if her limbs at times, 
from sheer weariness, almost refused to obey the dictates 
of her will ? She was performing a labor of love and 
duty, and the feeble voice of the pallid sufferer on the 
low couch in the corner of the room never called in vain 
for fresh exertions at her hands. 

Such constant and unremitting care and attention 
could not fail to bring back life and health and strength 
to the form of the invalid, and at last the physician told 
the anxious friends around her that the danger was past, 
and that with proper care and nursing she would cer- 
tainly recover. And to your faithful and affectionate 
care,” said he, turning to Ravenia, “ much more than to 
any skill of mine, is she indebted for her escape from the 
embrace of the grim monster. But she is still very weak, 
and though you have already been very heavily taxed, 
we shall have to demand for her a still farther continu- 
ance of the burden, though I hope and trust it will not 
be for very long.” 

“ It is no burden, but rather a pleasure to me,” replied 
Ravenia, sweetly, “ and I am only thankful if I have been 
instrumental in sparing this household, to which I am 
indebted for so many kindnesses, the misery of seeing 
one arm-chair forever vacant. But I fear,” she contin- 
ued, “ you over-rate my poor services.” 

Indeed I do not,” replied the old physician, earnestly, 
“the labor of our profession would be reduced one-half, 
and would be much more frequently crowned with suc- 
cess, if all our patients could be as fortunate in securing 
nurses as was our friend here.' Believe me. Miss Rave- 
nia, you merit all that I have said and much more.” 


224 


ravenia; or. 


The doctor spoke truthfully when he said that Eva 
would still require careful nursing and attention for a 
time ere she could be considered as upon the road to 
convalescence. But Bavenia had been faithful to her 
trust too long to falter now, and day by day saw the fair 
patient gaining strength, but oh ! so slowly. Gradually, 
very gradually, the color came back into her faded cheeks, 
and finally, when spring had come with its balmy breezes 
and warm, sunshiny days, and singing birds and beau- 
teous roses, Eva Earl was able to ride out in an easy 
carriage, while warm shawls and robes protected her 
from the still lingering chills of the reluctantly depart- 
ing winter. From this time her recovery was much more 
rapid, and soon she no longer needed the care of her 
nurse. 

But Ravenia returned no more to the gallery. Eva 
would not consent to her going out to work any more, 
under any circumstances. 

‘‘ N^o,’’ said she, emphatically, “ you have saved my 
life, and now the very least I can do in return is to do 
what is in my power to render your life comfortable. 
And besides,’’ she continued mischievously, “ your lover 
will soon be coming from the far west with a ship-load of 
gold, and it will never do for him to come and find you 
at work when you ought to be waiting for him, clad in 
bridal robes, and with your lamp trimmed and burning.” 

“ I do not suppose,” replied Ravenia, ‘‘ that he would 
think any the less of me if he came and found me hon- 
estly toiling for my own livelihood. If he would, he is 
not the man I think he is.” 

“ Of course he would not, but then you have worked 
very hard over my worthless carcass, and now you must 
rest,” said Eva, laughingly. “ But one thing must be 
arranged between us before he comes,” she continued, 
half in jest and half in earnest. ‘‘When he takes you 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 225 

away lie must take me too, for I can never bear to be 
separated from you again.’’ 

“ Nothing could please me better, I assure you,” re- 
plied Ravenia, affectionately embracing her friend, “ but 
what would your father say? Would he be willing to 
give up his daughter and the pet of his house, little 
Eddie?” 

‘‘ I fear not,” replied Eva, nor would I be willing to 
ask him to make the sacrifice, and yet I should like to 
have you always with me, for I really feel that I owe my 
life to you.” 

“ Not so, Eva, you give me too much credit,” replied 
our heroine with becoming modesty. “ True, I did what 
little I could for you, but no more' than you would have 
done for me under the same circumstances, and I do not 
think I am entitled to any special thanks for it. To God, 
rather, let us give thanks for your deliverance from the 
fearful danger which threatened you.” 

“ You are right, my dear friend, to Him .belongs the 
praise. But at the same time be assured that I none the 
less appreciate your kind and tender care of me, and that 
should occasion ever demand, or you unfortunately be 
placed in similar circumstances, my conduct shall bear 
the amplest testimony to that appreciation,” said Eva, 
earnestly. 

Time, the great unfolder of all events, too soon proved 
that this was no idle promise on Eva’s part. 

A few weeks after the conversation we have narrated, 
Ravenia was out on a charitable visit to a poor family 
living in the suburbs of the city, when a cold and most 
violent storm of wind and rain came up. In a few mo- 
ments her clothing was completely drenched, and she 
became chilled to the very marrow of her bones, and 
when she reached home, her teeth chatterred like one in 
an ague. The result was that when she arose the next 


226 


KA.VENIA; OR. 


morning, her head throbbed painfully, while her throat 
was so sore that she could neither speak nor swallow 
without the most intense pain. 

Eva, who realized much more fully than herself the 
condition of her friend, urged her to keep her room that 
day at least, but Eavenia refused, saying it was merely a 
cold and she should be well enough in the morning. 
But morning came, and found her unable to rise. When 
she failed to make her appearance at the breakfast-table, 
Eva went to her room and found her suffering with a 
parching fever. 

She at once sent for the same kind old physician who 
had so faithfully attended her during her illness. He 
came, and carefully examined his patient, evincing a 
degree of anxiety quite unusual with him. Her disease 
was typhoid fever in its most violent form, and from the 
somewhat enfeebled condition of Eavenia’s system (she 
had never fully recovered from the long days and nights 
of watching beside Eva, while her constant charitable 
labors had made still farther drains upon her endurance) 
he evidently apprehended the most serious consequences. 
He assured Eva that nothing short of such nursing and 
care as she had herself received would enable the frail 
bark of her friend to weather the storm, prescribed some 
remedies and took his leave, promising to call again 
during the day. 

He came again towards evening, but her condition 
was far from reassuring him, or relieving the anxiety he 
evidently felt on her account. He repeated, and this 
time with even more impressiveness than he had used in 
the morning, his assurance that nothing but the most 
watchful care and attention would enable her to survive 
the attack. 

From this time Eva established herself as chief nurse 
at the sick bed, and during the many long and weary 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


227 


days which elapsed while the life of Eavenia hung trem- 
bling in the balance, she was only less assiduous and 
unremitting in her attentions than Eavenia had been, 
because her physical strength and endurance were less. 
And her labors were at last crowned with complete suc- 
cess. 

One day when the old physician came and made his 
customary examination of his patient, instead of the 
usual doubting, uncertain shake of the head, his whole 
countenance brightened with hope and satisfaction. 

“ Ah ! Miss Eva,” he exclaimed — he always called her 
Miss, notwithstanding his full knowledge of her past 
life — “you have now repaid the debt you owed Miss 
Eavenia. She saved your life by her watchfulness, and 
now you have done the same for her.” 

“ Do you think, then, doctor, that she is out of dan- 
ger ?” queried Eva, while the tone in which she spoke 
showed at once her confidence in the good old man and 
the satisfaction which the announcement of his opinion 
afforded her. 

“Kot entirely out of danger, certainly,” replied he,, 
“but she has passed the crisis of her disease, and we may 
safely affirm that with anything like proper care she will 
recover. And that she will receive the best of care, the 
treatment she has already received is the best possible 
guaranty,” he hastened to add, fearing that his words 
might be construed to imply some doubts upon this 
point. 

“Be assured she will, so far as it is in my power to 
accomplish,” replied she, earnestly, and the doctor soon 
after took his leave. 

From this time the convalescence of Eavenia was 
rapid. E'otwithstanding the fierce attack which had been 
made upon the citadel of her life by the fell disease, it had 
been less insidious and undermining than that by which 


228 


eavenia'; or, 


Eva bad been prostrated, and ber superior vitality 
enabled ber to rally mucb more quickly. It was but 
about two weeks from tbe time of tbe conversation be- 
tween Eva and tbe doctor until sbe was able to sit in an 
easy cbair for sometime together, while Eva sat by ber 
side and read to ber some interesting story or cheered 
ber with suitable conversation. 

One of ber earliest inquiries when sbe was able to 
converse at all was, whether any letters bad arrived for 
ber during ber illness. Eva replied by placing in ber 
bands several which bad been taken from tbe postoffice 
and carefully laid by at a time when it was quite uncer- 
tain whether sbe would ever be able to read them. Sbe 
took them and turned them all over one by one, examined 
each superscription, and then without breaking tbe seals 
of any, lay back upon ber pillow with a weary sigh. Poor 
girl ! the letter she looked for was not there. A short 
time sbe lay in silence with her eyes closed, and then 
Eva, who was watching ber closely, saw tbe tears forcing 
their way between tbe tightly closed lids. 

Sbe arose, and bending over tbe invalid, pressed a 
warm and affectionate kiss 'upon ber quivering lips. In 
a moment Pavenia bad wound ber feeble arms about ber 
neck and was sobbing in a half hysterical manner upon 
tbe bosom of ber friend. 

Eva was terrified. Sbe feared tbe effect of this state 
of excitement upon tbe enfeebled frame of tbe sufferer, 
but for a few moments sbe was utterly at a loss what to 
say or do. Sbe therefore let ber weep without attempt- 
ing to check ber for a short time, and then gently wiping 
away ber tears, sbe said ; 

My poor Kavenia, what is tbe matter 

Ob replied tbe invalid, I am so mucb disap- 
pointed. I thought I would certainly have a letter from 
Augustus. It has been so very, very long since be has 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


229 


written to me. And now I don’t care for any of these,” 
she added with the petulance characteristic of persons^ 
whose minds as well as their bodies have been tempo- 
rarily weakened by a severe attack of the disease from 
which she was just recovering. 

“ Do not feel so badly, my dear friend,” said Eva, 
soothingly. ‘‘ He may have written you several times 
and the letters may have been delayed by some irregu- 
larity of the mails. Or perhaps the clerk at the postoffice 
may have overlooked one or more letters for you. There 
are a thousand wa^^s of accounting for your failure to 
hear from him without resorting to any of the horrible 
imaginings which I see are rioting in that busy little 
brain of yours,” smiling as she spoke. 

I fear not. My heart tells me something dreadful 
has happened,” said Kavenia with a fresh burst of tears. 

“ Hay,” said Eva, “ you do not now display the cus- 
tomary good sense of my friend. Be more calm and 
reasonable, and my word for it, this matter will be all 
right in the end. I will go myself to the postoffice and 
see if by any possibility they may have overlooked a 
letter for you.” 

‘‘Ho, you need not do that,” replied Eavenia, now 
more calm than before, “forgive me; I know I have been 
very foolish, but I am weak, and my disappointment was 
so bitter. You will forgive me, will you not?” 

‘‘ I have nothing to forgive,” replied Eva. “ But I am 
glad to see you feeling better. Will you look at your 
letters now ? ” 

“You may read them to me, if you please. I do not 
feel equal to the task of reading them myself.” 

Eva commenced, but long before she had finished 
reading she observed that her listener had sunk into 
slumber. “ Poor girl,” she murmured, “ how bitterly 


230 


ravenia; or, 

was she disappointed. But she will feel better when she 
wakes.’’ 

The next day Era went to the post-office herself, and 
to her joy found there a letter for her friend which bore 
the post-mark of the far off gold fields of the west. Her 
satisfaction, however, was but feeble compared with the 
intense delight with which the sick girl received the 
cheering messenger. For a time Eva feared that the 
effect of her intense joy would be even more serious than 
the consequences threatened by her disappointment of 
the day before. But it is said that ‘‘joy never kills,” 
and certainly it was so in this instance, for from the time 
of the receipt of this proof of her lover’s faithfulness she 
seemed to gain new strength with each succeeding day, 
until her friends, and even the old physician, were all 
amazed at the rapidity of her convalescence. They could 
not understand the deep, powerful, all-absorbing love 
which pervaded her heart and lent its generous, strength- 
ening influence to every part of even her physical frame^ 


fi 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


231 


CHAPTEE XXI. 

About three weeks after the events narrated in the 
last chapter, the two friends were one morning sitting in 
their room together, and Eavenia, now quite convales- 
cent, was reading the morning Journal, while Eva was 
silently engaged in some embroidery which she was pre- 
paring for a frock for her little boy. Suddenly Eavenia 
started up with the exclamation, “ I am going.’’ 

Eva looked up in surprise. “ Where are you going ? ” 
she asked, in a tone which betrayed the predominant 
feeling in her mind — that of astonishment. 

Ah ! I beg your pardon,” said Eavenia. “ I did not 
think but you were reading the paper as well as myself. 
Miss Anna E. Dickinson is going to lecture at Masonic 
Hall to-morrow evening, on woman’s rights, and I would 
not miss hearing her for the world.” 

“ I would not care particularly to hear her,” replied 
Eva, entirely uninspired by her friend’s enthusiasm. 

“Hot care particularly about hearing the most elo- 
quent champion of the rights of her sex ! ” cried Eavenia, 
in astonishment. “ Why, Eva, what do you mean ? ” 

‘‘Just what my words imply,” replied Eva, who, lack- 
ing the energy and positive force of character of her 
friend, had wholly failed to perceive and comprehend the 
importance of the question which the lecturer proposed 
to discuss. “ I shall probably go and listen to her out o f 
curiosity, as I would go to hear a troupe of minstrels 
rehearse their nonsense, but it would be no great disap- 
pointment to me if anything should occur to prevent my 
doing so.” 


232 


ravenia; or, 


This was the first time this subject, which has of late 
engrossed so much of the attention of the most profound 
and eminent thinkers and philosophers of our time, had 
ever been mentioned between the two friends, and each 
seemed equally astonished at the views of the other. 
For a moment neither spoke, but looked straight into 
each other’s eyes. Then Ravenia said slowly : 

Eva, are you not an advocate of and believer in 
woman’s rights ?” 

“ I certainly am,” replied her friend, ‘‘ but not of 
usurpations.” 

Are you not in favor of the mental, moral, social 
and political elevation of womankind ?” 

“ I would have the mental, moral and social position 
of woman improved to the utmost possible extent, and I 
would leave her political status just as it now is,” replied 
Eva. “ I think she now has all the political and civil 
rights as you call them which would conduce to her hap- 
piness.” 

“But what good reason can be given why woman 
should not have the right to vote and hold office as well 
as men ? Aye, and I think the offices would in many 
instances be better filled than they are now if women 
were admitted to them,” said Ravenia. 

“ It may be that in some cases they would,” said Eva, 
“ but what does that prove ? 'Not that women are natu- 
rally or intrinsically better than men, but simply that the 
people do not in all cases choose the best men for officers. 
And what assurance have we that if women were ad- 
mitted to office the same results would not follow? The 
same influences which corrupt men, and render them 
dishonest in office, would corrupt women also ; and as 
woman, when uncontaminated, is more refined and has 
more innate purity than man, so, to the shame of our sex 
be it spoken, when once corrupted by contact with the 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


233 


rougher features of life, she becomes more degraded and 
unprincipled than man, and I fear that our sex would be 
corrupted more than the offices would he purified by our 
admission to them.’’ 

‘‘ But would not her innate purity, of which you speak, 
have a tendency to refine and elevate the political world, 
and so bring it up to a proper standard?” said Eavenia. 
“ I think it would, and that certainly is a reason for 
admitting women to its privileges.” 

“ It might be the case for a time,” replied Eva, “ but 
the result to woman would be disastrous I fear, as well 
as in the end, to the very system which you are seeking 
to elevate. You can take your pocket handkerchief and 
wipe fruit stains from your hands — your hands are thereby 
purified, but your handkerchief is soiled; and if you 
repeat the process often enough the time will come when 
the handkerchief will not only refuse to remove any more 
stains, but will instead, impart its own discoloration to 
the hand. So I fear it would be if women were admitted 
to hold office. The purifying effect would be but tempo- 
rary, while woman in time becoming corrupt, would sink 
the offices still lower in corruption than they now are.” 

“ Then you would hold that woman has no power of 
her own to preserve the purity which you say char- 
acterizes her ? You would compare her to a handker- 
chief,” said Eavenia, sententiously. 

“ By no means. I admit that the illustration is an 
extreme one, but we know that women have been cor- 
rupted, and that when so they are more corrupt than 
men. This is my argument.” 

‘‘I should have no fears of any such result,” said 
Eavenia. “I have more faith in woman than you seem 
to have. I believe that the mass of women have suffi- 
cient strength of character to protect themselves from the 
defilement you so much deprecate, notwithstanding the 
16 


234 


ravenia; or, 


fact that here and there a single one may be found who 
has been corrupted and degraded, as you say ! And even 
in these isolated cases men are to blame for such corrup- 
tion.’’ 

“ Y ery true. But if the women had been incorruptible, 
men could not have corrupted them, could they?” 

Perhaps not. But then, does not woman need these 
rights and privileges, and the benefit of the ballot for her 
own protection ?” queried Eavenia. “ As matters now 
stand, all our rights of persons and property are at the 
will and pleasure of a set of self-constituted lords of 
creation, who assumb the absolute right to dispose of us 
without the least regard to our feelings or wishes. As 
matters now stand, the end and aim of woman’s life is to 
become the wife of some man and the mother of his 
children, and thenceforward she must be entirely sub- 
servient to him ; must have no will of her own. E'o matter 
how dearly she may love the home where she has resided 
during all the happiest years of her wedded life, or how 
comfortable or convenient it may be — if her lord and 
master wishes to sell out and move to the far west, 
where the only comforts consist of roaming wild beasts 
and barbarous Indians, she has nothing to do but to sign 
the deed and accompany him. What matters it that her 
already heavy burdens are increased ten-fold by the 
change — the law has said that she must submit to the 
will of her husband, and he has determined to go. So 
it must be.” 

I have no patience with the argument which assumes 
that men and women are naturally enemies,” said Eva, 
earnestly. For my part I regard their interests, and I 
believe the mass of mankind regard them — as does the 
law — as identical. If, in the case you mention, the hus- 
band and father changes his location, he must do it 
either for the purpose of bettering his financial condition. 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


235 


or for the sole purpose of inflicting the discomforts of 
which you speak upon her whom he has vowed to love, 
honor and cherish. If for the flrst, does not the wife 
share in the benefits equally with him. If for the last, 
does he not inflict the same discomforts upon himself, to 
say nothing of the improbability of any one in his senses 
acting from any such motive V’ 

“ But if women own property and pay taxes, should 
they not have a voice in making the laws by which their 
property is governed, and their taxes assessed ? I regard 
it as the height of injustice to require a woman who 
owns, perhaps, a hundred thousand dollars worth of 
property, to pay the taxes assessed by the votes of a lot 
of fellows, a thousand of whom, perhaps, do not own 
one-half the property which this single woman owns.’’ 

“But does not that argument prove too much?” 
asked Eva. “ And if it does, you know that according 
to the logicians, it proves nothing at all. If property 
gives a right to vote, then the exercise of the right ought 
to be just in proportion to the amount of property owned. 
So that if a person who owns one hundred dollars worth 
of property casts one vote, the person who owns one 
hundred thousand dollars worth ought to cast one thou- 
sand votes. This would place the poor at the mercy of 
the rich, and destroy republican institutions at once.” 

“ But surely,” persisted Eavenia, “ there is no good 
reason for saying that the rights of women in respect to 
the ballot-box should not be equal to those of men, 
whether based upon property qualification or not.” 

“ But again your argument proves too much, and is 
therefore bad. If women should vote, pray, what good 
reason is there why children should not ? They, like 
adults, own property which is taxed by laws, in the mak- 
ing of which they have no voice; they have no rights 
and duties which are defined by the laws, and which they 


236 


ravenia; or, 


are compelled to obey. Why does not their protection 
demand that they should have the right to vote ? ’’ 

“ There is a good reason for denying the ballot to 
them. Their minds and understanding are not suffi- 
ciently developed to enable them to vote understand- 
ingly, and it would be dangerous in the highest degree 
to entrust such power in their hands. But the same 
reason does not apply to women of mature age. If it be 
said that the mass of women are not sufficiently educated 
in relation to political matters to vote with discretion, I 
answer that that is because they have not been permitted 
to investigate those questions, or had any inducement to 
do so. But were the prohibition once removed, as it 
surely will be when the world arrives at the point at 
which it is willing to do equal and exact justice to all, 
then woman, having some inducement to do so, will edu- 
cate herself in these channels, and will then rise to her 
true sphere. How I long for that time to come,” said 
Ravenia, enthusiastically. 

“As to that,” said Eva, “ there are some children 
whose minds are better developed at the age of fifteen 
than are those of many men and women at twenty or 
thirty. The young man who has passed all his life in 
those studies which best fit him to understand the science 
of government cannot vote if he lacks one day of being 
twenty-one years of age, while the great awkward lout, 
but two years older than himself, who never read a book 
or paper, and never heard a speech in his life ; who can- 
not even write his own name, walks proudly up and de- 
posits a ballot, even the names upon which he does not 
know, much less the principles which it represents. And 
as for the true sphere of woman, I think she has attained 
it when she becomes a loving and beloved wife and 
mother, when she presides as the honored mistress of a 
home which the love and industry of her husband has 


THE OUTCAST KEDEEMED. 


237 


provided for her; when she trains and develops the 
minds of her children in the pure principles of morality, 
virtue and true religion, thus fitting them to discharge 
with credit to themselves and honor to their teacher, 
their duties to the world of mankind, or when she moves 
about like a ministering angel on errands of mercy, re- 
lieving misery and sutfering wherever she finds it. This 
is my idea of woman’s sphere and woman’s destiny, and 
for my part I crave no higher.” 

“You may be content with that if you will ; content 
to be the slave of another ; to come and go at his bid- 
ding and to have no will or even identity of your own. 
For my part I aspire to something more. I desire to 
shine in the world of literature, science and politics ; to 
exercise any calling or profession to which my inclina- 
tions lead me, and for which I may be able to fit myself 
— in short, I wish to be free,” said Kavenia. 

“ May you ever be free as heart can wish, my dear 
Eavenia,” said Eva, tenderly, “ only beware that in your 
pursuit of what you call freedom you do not lose your 
own identity, and, instead of the sweet, loving, loveable 
woman you now are, become, by contact with the outer 
world in which you propose to mingle, rough and hard 
and unfeeling, and so lose the greatest charm of woman- 
hood.” 

“ Yo fears of that, I think,” said Eavenia, laughingly. 
“ But what about the pursuit of the learned professions 
by woman ? Does your opposition to the enfranchise- 
ment of the sex go the length of forbidding them to 
travel outside the routine of duties which custom has 
heretofore prescribed for them ? ” 

“ By no means,” replied Eva. “ I have no objection 
to woman’s pursuing any avocation which does not tend 
to unsex her and produce the results I have just indicated. 
I would have every path of science and usefulness open 


238 


ravenia; or, 


to woman, and would have her walk in them just as far 
a^ she can without the loss of that modesty and retiring 
disposition which constitutes her principal charm and 
protection ; and mingling in the conflicts of the polit- 
ical arena would certainly have that effect. Hence my 
opposition to it. Certain it is that in mere political con- 
tests, as such, there is nothing elevating or ennobling, 
and nothing which could have the effect of exalting the 
character or attributes of woman, or increasing her influ- 
ence for good, but just the reverse. And believing this, 
and that the strongest defense of her rights lies in inspir- 
ing love and devotion to and for her in the breasts of the 
sterner sex, I shall ever oppose her enfranchisement — at 
least until I receive some new light upon the subject.’’ 

“ But how about the compensation received by wom- 
an for her labor ? ” asked Kavenia. “ Do you think the 
world is perfect in that respect, or are you willing to ad- 
mit that in this direction there is some room for improve- 
ment ? ” 

“What are your views upon that subject?” asked 
Eva, as naturally as she could had she been a native born 
Yankee. 

“ I think,” she replied, “ that the grossest injustice is 
done woman in that respect. I think when a woman 
performs the same labor that a man does and performs it 
just as well as a man does, she should receive the same 
wages, while in fact her compensation rarely exceeds 
one-half that allotted to men. I think it will puzzle 
even your ingenuity to find an excuse for so glaring an 
injustice as this.” 

“ To a certain extent I will agree with you,” replied 
Eva. “I will admit that the compensation of woman 
for labor is at times far below what justice would demand, 
and I will go farther and say that when a woman per- 
forms a man’s labor in the great hive of human industry. 


THE OUTCAST KEDEEMED. 


239 


and performs it as well as a man would, she should 
receive a man’s wages. The only difficulty lies in deter- 
mining just when that condition of things exists.” 

“How so? I do not understand you.” 

“In the first place, woman is seldom as thoroughly 
the master of her calling or avocation as man. One of 
the principal reasons for this is, not that woman has less 
capacity for mastering the details of any avocation than 
man, but because she seldom intends to devote her life 
to its pursuit. The female clerk, book-keeper, seam- 
stress, or anything else, regards her employment in these 
capacities as merely temporary, and generally looks for- 
ward to something entirely different in the future, while 
the man who adopts any of these avocations expects to 
pursue them all his life, and hence will naturally take 
more pains to perfect himself in all their details, even to 
the smallest minutia.” 

“But do you not think that injustice is very often 
done to woman in the matter of compensation for labor 
whicj^ they really perform ? Look at Mrs. Evans, over 
the way, for instance. With a family of three small 
children to support, she works early and late at her sew- 
ing machine, for which she receives from that skin-flint, 
Mr. Jones, but five dollars a week. How she subsists on 
it is more than I can tell. How, if she was permitted 
employment in Mr. Jones’ store in place of one of those 
young men, she could earn at least twice as much.” 

“But if she went out to clerk, who would care for 
her children in her absence? Would she be at the store 
as early and stay as late as the young men ? If not, 
would she do a man’s work ? And if she did, what would 
become of her children ? Still, I admit that injustice is 
often done in this way, and especially in the case you 
mention. But it seems to me that that is one of the 
evils incident to fallen humanity, and for which there is 


240 


kavenia; or, 


no remedy until the arrival of the millenium and the 
universal adoption of the Golden Rule.’’ 

‘‘But would not the admission of woman to the exer- 
cise of the elective franchise do much to remedy the 
evil?” 

“I think not. Attempts have often been made to 
regulate by law the relations of capital and labor, but 
always without success. These relations ever have and 
ever will be regulated by the law of demand and supply.” 

“Why, Eva, you are quite a political philosopher. 
But I cannot agree with your notions. Your theories 
are entirely two fine-spun for my comprehension. But 
let us go and hear Miss Dickinson and see if she cannot 
beat some sense into your head upon this subject, for I 
confess it is beyond my power,” said Ravenia, laughing. 
“ With all my heart,” replied Eva, in the same strain, 
“ but I very much fear that even your great apostle will 
fail to make any impression on my mind. I fear I am 
joined to my idols.” 

“ None so blind, etc.,” said Ravenia, and the Object 
was dropped. 

The friends went according to agreement and heard 
Miss Dickinson’s lecture. On their return the discussion 
was very naturally resumed, but as it took substantially 
the same range as the former, only varied by the intro- 
duction of some new ideas suggested by this able and 
eloquent advocate of the rights of her sex, it is not neces- 
sary that we should inflict it upon our readers. We leave 
it to each reader to say for him or herself which had the 
best of the argument, only remarking that the ideas 
advanced by Ravenia have received the sanction of many 
of the most eminent men and women of our time, among 
whom may be mentioned such names as Horace Greeley, 
John Bright, Dick Yates, Lucy Stone, Mrs. E. C. Stan- 
ton, Harriet B. Stowe, and thousands of others. 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


241 


The arguments advanced by Eva, on the contrary, are 
those which have in all ages been employed by the ene- 
mies of progress, people who are content with any situa- 
tion itt which they happen to be placed, and who are 
continually predicting disaster as the result of any change 
or innovation. But despite the croakings of these would- 
be philosophers, the cause is steadily progressing, and 
the time will yet come when woman will be rated at her 
true value, and accorded her proper position, when she 
will be recognized as the peer and equal of man instead 
of his slave, and in her new found power will have the 
means of protecting herself against the evils she is now 
compelled to endure. Then will her sphere of intellect- 
ual enjoyment be enlarged according to her true merit, 
her merely physical labor will be compensated according 
to its actual worth, and all the world will be the better 
and happier for the change from barbarous injustice to 
the strict rules of equity. 


242 


ravenia; oRj 


CHAPTERXXII. 

It had been sometime since Ravenia had heard from 
her lover, and she was unusually depressed in spirits^ 
Her life, as the reader is well aware, had been of a char- 
acter to impart a tinge of melancholy to her entire dis- 
position, but now she was even more so than usual. So 
long a time had elapsed since she had heard from him — 
so much longer than usual — that she found the sweet 
dream of happiness in which she had so long indulged 
was at an end forever. She still remained at Mr. Aston’s^ 
partly because she had nowhere elso to go, and partly 
because Eva would not consent to part with her. 

One day she had been out paying one of her customary 
visits of mercy to a poor, sick widow, who had long been 
a pensioner on her bounty, when, as she returned, Eva 
met her with a beaming face. 

“ Here,” said she, holding out a letter, “ is a cure for 
your low spirits.” 

Ravenia took the letter and glanced at the address. 
It was in the well known hand writing, and murmuring, 
“ Thank God, it has come at last,” she withdrew to her 
own room to open and read it alone. Upon breaking 
the seat she found the photograph of a fine looking man, 
but the features were strange to her. She could not 
understand it, and turned to the perusal of the letter for 
an explanation. 

It was in the old familiar, lover-like style, contained 
renewed assurances of his faithfulness, but told her the 
day of his return was still uncertain. His business was 
prospering, but was in such condition that he could not 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


24a 


leave it at present, but as soon as be possibly could be 
was coming borne to redeem bis long pligbted vows. A 
postscript explained tbe strange photograph. It ran thus : 

“ I send a photograph of my partner for your friend 
Eva Earl. His feelings have been interested in her by 
your description of her, and be desires to open a corres- 
pondence with her. He is a young widower with one 
child, a sweet little girl, and is tbe very soul of honor. 
He would be pleased to have her photograph in exchange 
for his. His name is Sanford Bentley.’^ 

She showed this postscript, and the likeness to Eva, 
and the latter, after consultation with her friend, decided, 
although it w^as not exactly the orthodox way of forming 
acquaintances, to send her photograph and a note to Mr. 
Bentley in the next letter which Bavenia sent to her 
lover. This was the beginning of a correspondence be- 
tween them which was kept up with the utmost faithful- 
ness until in time, becoming mutually interested in each 
other, their vows of fealty were interchanged without 
their ever having seen each other. 

Time, with his ever restless wing, flitted merrily by 
to the two women whose lives, so long embittered, were 
now brightened and blest by the love of faithful, honest, 
strong-hearted men ; and at last came the glad tidings 
that the time for their departure from the golden shores 
of California was fixed. They were coming home, each 
to claim his promised bride, and though months would 
elapse before their coming, still our friends could look 
forward with confidence and hope to the haven of rest 
and love which awaited them. It was finally arranged 
that the double wedding should take place on the Fourth 
of July then next ensuing, at Mr. Aston’s house. 

Soon after this, Eva received a letter from her cousin 
Clara, informing her that on the 26th of June she was to- 
be married, and inviting her to attend the wedding. She 


^44 


ravenia’; or, 


did not give the name of her future cousin, but merely 
informed Eva that he was a young widower with one 
child, named Rosa, who dearly loved her, and whom she 
already loved as though she had been her own offspring. 
The letter contained the most glowing anticipations of 
future happiness, and warmly urged Eva to be present. 

As a matter of course the invitation could not be 
accepted, and in declining it, Eva informed her cousin of 
the double wedding so soon to come off in Indianapolis, 
and invited Clara to extend her wedding tour to that 
place and be present. In due time came a letter of 
congratulation from Clara accepting the invitation of 
Eva, and promising to arrive in Indianapolis as early as 
the evening of the third. 

About the fifteenth of June the Californians arrived 
at the capital of the Hoosier State. Words will not 
■suffice to portray the meeting between Ravenia and her 
lover after their long and painful separation. Ah ! what 
events had transpired since they parted long years before 
in the city of Cincinnati. Ravenia had mourned his 
faithlessness, while his heart was true as the needle to the 
pole ; she had been wooed and won ; had seen her hus- 
band go down amid pain and anguish into the dark val- 
ley of the shadow of death, and followed his remains to 
the tomb ; had watched beside the bed of a dear friend? 
when she thought that all she had to love was about to 
be taken from her; had been so close to the dark river 
herself that its murky waters laved her feet and chilled 
her frame, and had been mercifully preserved through it 
all, and now everythiug promised a future as happy as 
the past had been miserable. • 

The adventures of her lover had been startling and 
thrilling in the extreme, but this is not the place to 
recount them. We have nothing to do with his grizzly 
hear hunts, fights with hostile Indians, his suffering for 


THE OUTCAST KEDEEMED. 


245 * 


want of food and water while crossing the plains, the 
sickness which had prostrated him in that far off land, 
and would have proved fatal in all probability but for the 
kind care and attention of the friend whom he had 
brought with him to wed her friend Eva. Eavenia lis-^ 
tened with tearful attention to his history, and in her 
inmost soul she thanked God for his mercy in sparing 
and bringing him back to her again. 

And best of all, the letter which had produced so 
much of unhappiness to Eavenia, and upon the strength 
of which she had married Doctor Wills, was explained 
to her entire satisfaction. At the time of writing he was 
suffering from the most intense depression of spirits, 
consequent upon a long and uninterrupted course of mis- 
fortune, and believing it to be very doubtful if he should 
ever return to the States, and feeling that it was unjust 
to hold Eavenia bound by a promise, of the fulfillment 
of which he could not see. the least probability, he had 
written the letter to free her from such bonds, believing 
that, though his own heart bled at so doing, he wm 
thereby promoting her happiness. And when he received 
the notice of her marriage with Doctor Wills, he was 
confirmed in that belief, and had no suspicion of the con- 
trary until the arrival of her holiday presents. 

The meeting of Eva and her lover, though less demon- 
strative than that of the others, was nevertheless as 
pleasant. It must be borne in mind that up to this 
moment they had never seen each other, but at the first 
meeting each intuitively felt that the other was well 
worthy all the love which had been awakened during 
their correspondence, or that either could bestow. And 
now Eva learned that the little girl who accompanied her 
lover was not his child, but the child of a dearly loved 
sister, who had been driven from her home by the abuse 
of her husband, and had left this child in charge of him- 


^46 


ravenia; or. 


self and his wife. Since then he had lost all trace of this 
sister, his wife had died, and he had always cared for the 
little ‘‘ Tinnie’’ and represented her as his own. 

It was now hut about three weeks till the day set for 
the double wedding, and preparations for the great event 
were going on with a rapidity which effectually excluded 
everything else. On the night of the third, Clara and 
her husband arrived, and with them came a gentleman — 
a special friend of Clara’s husband — by the name of 'Wil- 
liam Hull. When Clara introduced her husband, Eva, to 
her surprise, learned that his name was Bentley, the same 
as that of the gentleman whom she was about to marry. 
As it was very late when they arrived, they soon retired 
without meeting any of the family except Eavenia and 
Eva. 

The next morning the sun rose bright and clear — an 
augury of the brightness which was to surround the 
future lives of Eavenia and Eva. “ Happy is the bride 
the. sun shines on,” says the adage, and surely, if there 
be any truth in the adage, they ought to be happy, for 
never did the sun shine brighter than during the whole 
of that eventful day. For eventful it truly was in more 
senses than one. It was to be a day not only of important 
events to those interested, but of most wonderful sur- 
prises — surprises which would seem almost like fiction 
but for the fact that the author was present, and knows 
them to be strictly true. 

At the proper time the guests began to assemble in 
the spacious parlors of the Aston mansion, a gay and 
goodly party of the elite of the city. Carriage after car- 
riage drove up and deposited its freight of laughing 
humanity, all clad in their gayest apparel, to do honor to 
the occasion, for Eva and Eavenia were universal favor- 
ites in the circle in which they moved, and Mr. Aston 
was esteemed and respected by all who knew him. At 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


247 


last came the man of God, who was to pronounce the 
words which were to bind together for life the two pairs 
of loving hearts, so long faithful and so worthy of each 
other. 

Soon after the arrival of the minister there was a 
gentle buzz among the guests, and soon the word passed 
from lip to lip, “they are coming.’’ The next moment a 
side door was thrown open and the brides and grooms 
entered. All were attired with the most faultless taste, 
and an involuntary murmur of admiration burst from the 
audience. It was but momentary; the next instant it 
was hushed by an exclamation from a gentleman sitting 
in the corner of the room, and all eyes were at once 
turned toward him. It was Clara’s husband. 

He was gazing as if petrified upon the foremost bride- 
groom ; he half rose from his seat, and then observing 
that the attention of the whole company was attracted to 
himself, he, by a powerful effort, resumed his composure 
and his seat at the same time, and the ceremony pro- 
ceeded. But the attention of the guests had been par- 
ticularly attracted by his strange conduct, and now all 
were struck with the extraordinary resemblance between 
him and the bridegroom, who, on his part, having ob- 
served the other, seemed scarcely less agitated. 

As soon as the ceremony was performed, Clara and 
her husband approached as if to offer their congratula- 
tions — a few words were hurriedly and privately inter- 
changed between the bridegroom and the latter, who 
then turned to the audience and said : 

“ Ladies and gentlemen : I owe you an apology for 
my strange conduct. This man is my brother. It has 
been years since I have seen him, or since we have had 
any trace whatever of each other, and when I recognized 
him as the expectant husband of my wife’s cousin, it was 


248 KAVENIA ; OR, 

but natural that I should be somewhat agitated. This is 
my apology.’' 

The reader will not need the assurance that the apol- 
ogy was received as satisfactory, or that the congratula- 
tions of the assembled guests were equally divided 
between the happy brothers and their brides — so much 
so that Eavenia and her new-made husband were in dan- 
ger of being overlooked altogether. But they were too 
much engrossed in observing the happiness of their 
friends to care for the omission or even to notice it. It 
was indeed a most pleasant meeting, and added no little 
to the zest of the occasion. 

But this was not the only surprise of the day. When 
the excitement of this discovery had somewhat subsided, 
Eannie, the girl who presided over the culinary depart- 
ment of Mr. Aston’s house, entered with a train of ser- 
vants, bringing refreshments. Eo sooner had the glare 
of the gas-light fallen upon her face than Mr. Bentley, 
Eva’s husband, sprang forward with a great cry of joy. 

“ What ! ” said he, ‘‘ another surprise ! Are you Ean- 
nie Hull, or do my eyes deceive me?” 

am indeed,” replied the bewildered girl, “and you 


“ I am Sanford Bentley, your long-lost brother, and 
the little girl with me is none other than your own little 
Tinnie.” 

“ And I,” said Clara’s husband springing to their side, 
“ am your other brother, Herman. Thank God for bring- 
ing us all together once more after having so long known 
nothing of each other, or whether living or dead.” 

The next moment the girl was weeping with hyster- 
ical joy in the arms of her brothers, while the entire 
company gathered around in wondering astonishment, 
and tears flowed from many a beautiful eye in sympathy 
with hers. But still another surprise awaited them. 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


249 


The gentleman who had accompanied Clara and her 
husband from !N’ew York came up pale and trembling, 
and, forcing his way through the crowd, said in husky 
tones : 

“ITannie, my own, my much-loved, injured wife, do 
you not know me ? lam William Hull, your unworthy 
but repentant husband. Long but vainly have I sought 
you, and now I find you here. Oh ! Yannie, will you 
not look upon and forgive me all my cruelty ? It was 
drink that made me the fiend I was to you, but now I 
have repented and reformed, and, God being my helper, 
if you will take me to your heart once more, never shall 
act or word of mine cause you pain again.” 

One moment she gazed at him as if doubting his 
identity, and then she flung herself into his extended 
arms. 

‘‘ Oh ! William,” she sobbed, ‘‘ how I have wept and 
watched and prayed for this meeting. And at times I 
have almost despaired of ever seeing you again. But 
God is good and he has at last answered my prayer.” 

The guests were amazed, stunned and bewildered at 
the rapidity with which surprises followed each other. 
They looked from one to the other as if to inquire 
whether they were in a magician^s enchanted castle or a 
haunted house ; whether they were awake or dreaming, 
or what new surprise awaited them. But in the midst 
of the general confusion the reader will readily believe 
that there were four happy souls who recked little of the 
astonished looks by which they were surrounded. 

And now, dear reader, our story is ended. W e have 
seen the unfortunate Ravenia duped by a villain and 
reduced to the condition of an outcast; we have witnessed 
her redemption through the influence of a noble order 
and the Christian religion; we have traced her in her 
good deeds, by which she sought to atone for the wrongs 


250 


ravenia; ok, 


she had done ; and we have witnessed her union for life 
with the chosen of her heart; one every way worthy of 
her, and in every way qualified to render her happy. 

Come with me dear reader, while we pay a flying visit 
to the several characters who have appeared in these 
pages. All are personal friends and intimate acquaint- 
ances of mine, and they will make us welcome. 

hTannie and her husband live in a pleasant house on 
one of the principal streets in Topeka, Kansas, in the 
enjoyment of all the happiness aflbrded by this world, 
tempered only by the sad recollection of the untimely 
end of their little Tinnie, who died but a short time after 
the reconciliation of her parents, of injuries received 
from a severe fall while at play. 

Clara and her husband live in a small cottage in Em- 
poria, Kansas. They have one bright-eyed baby boy — a 
brother for little Kosa, who never wearies of watching 
and admiring him. They are as happy as they deserve 
to be. 

Eavenia and her husband, and Marcia and her hus- 
band, reside in Cleveland, Ohio. As Ravenia and Marcia 
before their marriage were united by ties of indissoluble 
affection, so since their marriage their friendship has 
continued, and has finally culminated in bringing them 
into the closest possible relations to each other. In one 
of the pleasantest localities in Cleveland is a double three 
story brick house, and there reside Charles Cady and 
Sanford Bently, with their loving and amiable wives. 
Ravenia has a boy baby three months old. 

Eva and her husband and child live in a small but 
very comfortable and pleasant house in LaFayette, Indi- 
ana. Mr. Aston no longer lives in Indianapolis. When 
Eva left his house it was too lonely there for him, (his 
wife and son have been dead sometime) and he sold out 


THE OUTCAST REDEEMED. 


261 


his property there and went to lire with his daughter, 
his only living relative. 

And thus, dear reader, we will bid them all farewell, 
only wishing that the happiness they now enjoy may 
continue to attend them all adown the journey of life, 
and that in the end they may be gathered to still more 
perfect happiness in the bright realms beyond the tomb. 


THE END. 




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